How To Train Your Dragon: 2015  Case Files
by Disneyanime91
Summary: A series of one-shots set before, during and after HTTYD: 2015, in the same universe. Across genres and styles, a variety of ideas that never made it to the final cut. Includes Character Files! Reviews are appreciated, requests are accepted.
1. Take Two Panadol, With Love

**Side Quest 1:**** Take Two Panadol, With Love**

_Male Officers' Barracks, Installation 83-RK, 0025hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock_

Fire. All around me. The burning sensation, the heat. I'm sweating buckets. There is nothing else but darkness and fire.

Where am I?

Suddenly, a large shape bursts through the wall of flames in front of me. It's vaguely familiar; a large head, with immense rows of sharp fangs lining its jaws. It lunges towards me, but I cannot escape; my legs are rooted there, frozen despite the heat.

Heat… The flames lick my clothes as the shape blows past me, roaring, setting my pant legs on fire. Panicking, I reach down to put it out.

No use. The burning sensation engulfs my left leg, spreading, shooting upwards throughout the rest of my body. My systems are flooded with the pain, and I can't help but cry out. I am blinded by it, my mind a complete whirl as I fade in and out of consciousness.

The pain… the agony…

I look down, and stumble. I see nothing attached to my left knee. Blood is spurting out of the charred stump, flowing all over… where's my leg?

Where the hell is my leg?

With an anguished yell, I find myself staring up at a darkened ceiling, lying in a pool of sweat.

The bed is damp where I lay. My t-shirt is wet as well. So everything was just a bad dream.

Except the pain. It's still there, numbing my side, sending shockwaves throughout my body.

I struggle to get up; the wounds have not completely healed, the medic said it would take at least another two weeks or so before I could get completely used to the bionic leg.

Now in a sitting position, I take another good look at my battle scar. A sleek prosthetic leg, gunmetal in colour, fusing perfectly into the remnants of the organic matter. It was Sgt. Gobber's greatest masterpiece yet, and the medical team that worked with him were greatly satisfied as well. Apparently, once it has synchronized with my nervous system, I wouldn't even notice that it's a fake.

Well, it still has a long way to go.

Sighing, I grab a couple of painkillers off the bedside table, swallowing them with a gulp of water. Telling myself that it could be worse, I try to go back to sleep. After all, Darth Vader didn't have Panadol.

_

* * *

_

Female Officers' Barracks, Installation 83-RK, 0030hrs  
Lt. Astrid Hofferson

There he goes again. Every night, I hear him.

In the day, he puts on his mask; he tells everyone that he's fine, that his leg isn't bothering him, but I know. Even when I ask him face-to-face, he keeps insisting that he's okay. Maybe he forgets that my bunk is right behind his; purely by chance, we're only separated by a wall. The officers' block is funny that way.

The anguished yells, the screams of pain as he wakes up from the nightmares.

The medical officers tell me he will need time to adjust to his leg. How long, I don't know.

I can't imagine the pain he goes through. Every night, I can only weep silently as I feel my own heart burn in acid, the agony of not being able to be there, right next to him, to comfort him, to help him tide through the spells of pain.

Stupid under-21 curfew rules.

I keep telling myself that I am always there for him, but maybe I'm deluding myself. I can't be there for him all the time. Even though I try, the world just keeps limiting my abilities.

No. I won't accept that.

Clenching my fists, I make my decision.

_

* * *

_

Male Officers' Barracks, Installation 83-RK, 0045hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock

Damn, I still can't sleep. Tossing and turning, I try to find a comfortable position.

The Panadol is helping, though; the pain has slowly faded into a dull ache.

Brr… it's a cold night. I'm freezing here, despite being covered in at least two layers of sheets. Damn standard-issue thin rags; poor excuses for a blanket… The wind only makes things worse.

Wait… wind?

I could have sworn that I shut the windows before I went to bed. Stirring, I peek out through my half-closed eyelids.

The moonlight cast a shadow through the open window. On the wall, against the blue light, was a black, shape. Definitely human; tall, slim, feminine with long hair. I want to shout, yell, let whoever it is know that you just can't break into someone else's room like that.

However, upon close examination, I notice that the figure seems oddly familiar. I hesitate. The shadow slowly advances towards me, taking cautious steps. Trying to figure out who it is, I slowly shift my head such that I was able to at least catch a glimpse of who that person is, in my mirror conveniently located nearby.

That blonde hair… Astrid?

Dressed only in her sleeping wear, a camisole and a pair of thigh-length tights (a boyish, yet strangely cute combination on her), she's slowly moving closer. I gulp quietly. Is it me or is it getting hot in here?

What is she doing here in the middle of the night?

Not daring to look any further for fear of startling her with any sudden movements I might make, I freeze. I'm praying she doesn't hear my thundering heartbeats, increasing in speed and volume as her svelte figure draws nearer.

Soon, I feel her weight on my mattress. The sheets are lifted, and the heat from her body radiates towards me, warming me a little, a welcome respite from the cold desert air. A soft sensation presses up against my back, and my nose is filled with the smell of strawberries and shampoo.

Is she lying down next to me? My heart is pounding against my chest, threatening to burst out at any moment. I'm holding back the urge to turn over and face her.

"Jack? Are you awake?"

Should I say anything? I keep silent for now.

"… Jack… I don't know if you're really sleeping, or if you're just ignoring me… I'm not supposed to be here, anyway. Whatever. I just want you to know, I… I really care about you. I know what you go through every night; I can hear you from the other side…"

Wow, am I really that loud?

"Maybe you don't want the rest of us to worry… but just so you know… I'm always there for you. I was there with you when you broke out of detention; there when you so bravely took down the monster; I'm here with you now, and I promise I'll be there for you tomorrow, and the day after, and forever… I won't leave you. I don't want to leave you. Please… I… I love you."

Inside, my heart is leaping into golden rainbow meadows of marshmallows and flowers. Those three words are enough to send me into fits of ecstasy. I couldn't fight the urge anymore.

Flipping around under the sheets, I embrace her tightly.

"Astrid… I… I love you too." I don't know what else to say. "I'm so sorry… for worrying you."

She's visibly stunned at my sudden acceptance. Slowly, she brings her arms around my neck. "Idiot… Don't keep stuff bottled up… Remember, I'm always there for you."

"And me for you." I reply, before reaching over to give her a kiss on the lips. Surprised at my initiative, she returns it.

Under the blue glow of the moonlight, I can finally fall asleep, the two of us in each others' arms.

_

* * *

_

Male Officers' Barracks, Installation 83-RK, 0730 hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock

The heat from the sun, and the bright beams that shine through the open window awaken me from my slumber.

"Astrid…?" I slowly lift myself up.

The spot beside me, where the girl of my life lay last night, is empty. Puzzled, I scratch my head. Was all that just another dream?

Looking to my side, I see a full cup of water and a box of Panadol. Under it was a note, written in neat handwriting.

_Take two with water if you're still feeling sore. Had to get back before roll call. See you at the canteen :)  
3 Astrid_

I smile, and lie back onto the metal bedframe. The world seems so much sunnier than it was before.


	2. ATF Personnel Case Files 01

**-RESTRICTED: STAFF-IN-CONFIDENCE-**

**ATF PERSONNEL CASE FILES 01**

**LCP/3SG/Cpt. Jack Haddock Guerrerez  
**Cuban American  
Slim, average height with short brown hair, combed neatly.

Teenage life has never been kind to Jack. While only 18, he has been scorned, ridiculed and questioned by peers and family alike. A social misfit, the son of the General who practically owns the _Armas Transfronterizo_, Jack always found it hard to fit in. He never managed to live up to expectations, costing him promotions, jobs and the respect his father wishes he had. Dismal results at the range and during combat training have never allowed him to show his true forte – an imaginary, creative mind with a vast array of technical engineering skills. In his spare time, away from stern eyes, he prefers to tinker with his equipment, finding ways to make life easier and better, trying to solve problems with his hands and his mind together.

Despite having had a tough childhood where he lost a beloved mother at the tender age of 3, Jack puts on a carefree front, openly accepting new ideas and always thinking about current issues. Not afraid to challenge the norm, he dares to venture out and question current practices, even though he gets shot down and ignored all the time. Failure after failure has steeled his will; he will not rest until he achieves his goal, or until he realizes that things can't change.

****

**

* * *

**

3SG/Lt. Astrid Keira Hofferson

British  
Slim, average height with blonde hair, Single braid or ponytail.

A young lady of 18, and rather good-looking for her age. Hailing from a distinguished military family, Astrid has always been a tough fighter. Never one to give up, she demands only the best from herself and those who work with her. Failure is not an option for her. She was brought into the ATF by her parents while still a child, both veterans of the Gulf War, after ending their tours of duty with the Special Air Service in the late 90's.

Strong-willed, courageous, and with a vast array of high-end combat skills to boot, she has fashioned herself into the ultimate weapon, far surpassing expectations and becoming one of the top combatants of her age. Her looks have also gained her many fans amongst the hot-blooded young males amongst her peers; however, few have the guts to actually approach her and ask her out, and even so, many fail to get her attention. A true rose with thorns.

* * *

**Lt. Gen. Basilio Stoick Guerrero  
**Cuban American  
Tall, muscular, burly, scarred; Greying hair in a flattop cut

A son of la Revolución of the 1950s, the General's fighting spirit was bred in him from a young age, his father a top soldier under Ernesto "Che" Guevara himself. However, 'freedom' under the communist dictators of the Cuban Government was not to be for the young Stoick's family. His mother was killed for being one of the first to stand up against oppression. Disillusioned by the way the Cuban Government was developing, the General's father left Cuba for political reasons during the Missile Crisis of 1962 with an infant Stoick, escaping to the United States of America, a political exile.

During the height of the Cold War, the General's father teamed up with a number of like-minded individuals, and started the _Armas Transfronterizo _("Guns Across Borders"), one of the first Private Military Contractors of its kind. Setting up base in the deserts of the Middle East away from the world's eyes that were focused on the tensions between the USA and the Soviet Union, the ATF built itself up, expanding slowly throughout the rest of the Cold War. By the time the Cold War was over in 1991, the ATF had a handful of installations in remote regions across the globe, and was adequately equipped, enough to rival most armies. A young Stoick had married a wife that would bear him a son, and he would have taken over the ownership of the ATF from his late father. Thanks to connections in governments all over, the General found favour, his task forces deployed for contracts which government militaries would not risk. By the dawn of the 21st century, the ATF would have grown to a formidable force… if not for those blasted dragons. They took his wife along with the lives of many other valued personnel. Swearing vengeance, the General vows to end the dragon threat once and for all, no matter what it takes.


	3. How To Train Your Metal Gear

**Side Quest 2:**** How To Train Your Metal Gear**

_General's Office, Installation 83-RK, 1100hrs_

"And so we offer you this proposal. The choice is completely up to you. Whether you accept it or not, will not have any bearing on the relationship between our organizations." The elderly man, looking more than 70 years of age, sat at the table, opposite the General. Despite his silver hair and moustache, as well as the wrinkled skin, the man looked more than healthy for his age; dressed in a trench coat, the man gave off an aura of power and strength. His voice was gruff and gravelly, but had a determined quality about it.

"So let me get this straight… you want us to share our dragon handling expertise with you… and in exchange, you allow us access to this… Metal Gear technology?" The General seems a little reluctant to seal the deal, seemingly unconvinced of what benefit it might bring the _Armas Transfronterizo._

The old man is unfazed. Without skipping a beat, he proceeds to speak, "I repeat, the choice is completely yours. But I must say, isn't this beneficial for both our organizations?"

Nodding his head, the General agrees with this point. But he is still unsure; the alliance with the dragons remains one of the ATF's primary driving forces, having resulted in a number of operational successes in the past year. The old man sighs, "Alright. How about this – in addition to the Metal Gear technology, we give you the schematics to all our experimental weapons; AI and all, no strings attached."

Narrowing his eyes, the General contemplates for a while more.

"Persistent one, aren't you? Alright. We'll do this for a year, and see how it turns out." Making sure that there is no fine print, the General signs the documents laid out in front of him.

"We appreciate your assistance. I promise you won't regret it," The old man genially smiles. Getting up, the General offers him a handshake.

As the door closes behind the man, the General sighs in relief.

"Sir, who was that?" An officer who was standing nearby all this time speaks up.

"A representative of the _Militaires Sans Frontieres, _calling himself 'Big Boss'." The General's face is grim, as if an old hatchet had been dug up within.

The officer is stunned. "_THE_ MSF? The one they call 'Outer Heaven'? The ones that single-handedly resolved the Peace Walker nuclear crisis in the 1970s?"

"Yes. The most powerful paramilitary corporation there is in the world. Exclusive holders of the rights to AI weaponry and Metal Gear technology, and that man right there, is the founder himself. Big Boss, one of the deadliest, most legendary soldiers to have ever lived. My father used to tell me fantastical tales of how Big Boss took down entire armies on his own. I hear that he himself was the one who ended the crisis you spoke of. By his own hands."

The officer stands there, awed by the presence that stood there just a few minutes ago.

As for the General, he prays that he has made the right choice.

_

* * *

_

MSF Mother Base, Somewhere in the middle of the Caribbean Sea

The helicopter gradually descends, touching down on the landing pad. As the spinning blades come to a rest, Snake, or 'Big Boss' as the rest of the world called him, exited the chopper, holding on to the Cuban cigar that hung from his lips to prevent it from being blown away by the salty sea wind.

Puffing out a white cloud of tobacco smoke, he slowly makes his way across the platform to meet his second-in-command. She was dressed in standard MSF-issue combat fatigues for pants, but wore a brown tank top, with a yellow scarf around her neck. Her shoulder-length brown hair whipped back in the breeze.

"Boss-"

"I told you, call me Snake. We've been working together long enough, Amanda."

"Sorry, Snake. How did it go?"

"The ATF has agreed to work with us for now. I can tell that he still does not trust us fully. No matter, trust can be built up."

"Sounds good, shall I put the plans into action?"

Shaking his head, Snake holds her back, "Not yet; get a small detachment ready, but don't send them out. For now, we let them decide the course of action."

"Remember Amanda, dragons are living things; our Metal Gears are only machines. Let's not rush them for now."

"But what about Cipher's threat?"

"We've disabled all his nukes; for now, the guns are silent." Pausing, the wrinkled brow furrows even more, "But I understand your concern. Knowing him, it won't be long before he starts up again."

"Then we must hurry; gain the ATF's trust ASAP," the woman's tone is worried, but determined. Snake nods in agreement; the Boss's will is his. For the world to be truly safe against the threat of Cipher, it would take every effort of all the major organisations of the world. They would need to be united as one.

Plus, developing an alliance between dragons and humanity is likely to prove a worthy deterrent against Cipher's plots in the future. It won't hurt to have a few more flying tanks on our side.

"Contact Strangelove; have her backup all our AI weapon schematics, for Pupa, Chrysalis, Cocoon and Gear Rex. Have an R&D team ready for deployment to the ATF base by next week."

"Let's hold up our end of the deal, and we'll see if they hold up theirs."

_

* * *

_

Hangar, Installation 83-RK, 1000hrs  
One week later  
Cpt. Jack Haddock

"Who are the new guys?" Astrid's question draws my attention away from the workbench. I was just making some tweaks to the radar and weapons systems on Toothless. Not too far away, my Night Fury lay curled up on the ground, waiting for me to finish making my modifications, a bored, nonchalant look on his face.

"Some detachment from another PMC… they're here on exchange, I think. Swapping expertise and skills. My father said something about it in passing, I didn't bother to ask more." Shrugging, I return to what I was doing before I got distracted. Nearby, a group of engineers happen to pass by, talking very loudly.

"Whoa! Guys! Listen up, those new guys from the other PMC, they're getting to use the largest hangar here!"

"Really? Isn't that the one that's supposedly reserved for all our top-secret projects? How are they getting access to it?" Perking up, I listen in more closely, my curiosity piqued.

"I don't know, but apparently, according to one of the top brass around here, they're building a Metal Gear for us!"

Metal Gear? That name sounds very familiar… Where could I have heard it before?

Astrid, seemingly psychic, reads my mind and answers that question for me, "Remember combat history class? The Peace Walker crisis? Metal Gears are AI-controlled mobile weapons platforms. Robots with really big guns. Essentially, they're thinking, learning tanks."

Oh yeah…

"Wait… I thought that was top-secret technology? Only a select few have access to it! How the hell did my dad manage to get hold of it?"

"How would I know? He's your dad!"

A nervous cough from behind interrupts our conversation. A young Private stood there, looking back and forth between the two of us; must have been intimidating, having two officers stand in front of her.

"Um, Captain Jack, Sir? The General was looking for you, he says you've got new posting orders."

What?

"Starting the week after, Odin Squadron is to be posted out to the Caribbean Ocean. You're on an exchange programme with the _Militaires Sans Frontieres _to teach them Dragon combat."

Stunned, I don't know what to say. Beside me, Astrid has this grin on her face, her eyes sparkling.

"The Caribbean? ! Sweet! Sun, Sand and Surf!"

I give her a bewildered look. Somehow, I doubt she's got the right image in her mind. Shaking my head, I thank the dumbfounded soldier in front of us, and make my way to my father's office for an explanation.

Toothless just yawns.

**

* * *

**

_A/N – Just an idea I had, after playing Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker on the PSP. One of the best handheld games there are, in my opinion. But I digress. After noticing similarities between the protagonist organisation (the MSF) and the guys who own Installation 83-RK (the ATF), this idea just popped into mind. Anyway, having dragons fight alongside/against giant AI tanks seems to be quite a cool idea. Will I build on this? Maybe in more one-shots. But not at the moment, I can't think of anything else for this for now :P For those who are confused about the new characters above (chances are you don't play MSG:PW), it's perfectly fine. Check out the Wikipedia entry for Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker for more information._


	4. The Discovery Channel Phenomenon

**Side Quest ****3****:**** The Discovery Channel Phenomenon**

_Epilogue Chapter  
Lt. Astrid's Imagination, 1925hrs_

It's a beautiful evening. The view is as breathtaking as ever, since I first took in the bird's-eye view of this magnificent scene. It's a perfectly romantic ambience, as Jack and I enjoy a relaxing flight together.

"Never gets old, huh?" Jack is the first to break the silence.

"Nope."

"It kinda make you want to…"

"Break into song?" I finish the sentence for him.

"Yep." Smiling at me, he lets me start the ball rolling. Out of nowhere, a calm, piano accompaniment starts playing. Is that Jack's on-dragon stereo system?

_**[A/N – Have this (youtube . com /watch?v=at_f98qOGY0 - take out the spaces) playing in the background as you read the following chunk of random woohoo. It should help.]**_

Taking turns, we just go with the flow.

"I love the desert."

"I love the twilight skies."

"I love large weapons."

"I love when dragons fly."

Suddenly, Snotlout pops up behind us on his Nightmare, "I love the whole world."

The rest of our original platoon appears out of nowhere as well, all on their dragons, singing along, "And all its sights and sounds!"

All at once,  
"Boom de ya da,  
Boom de ya da,  
Boom de ya da,"

Some crazy neo-Taleban soldier appears from within his hiding place among the sand dunes, waving his AK-47 at us and yelling, "BOOM DE YA DA!"

I start again, "I love the ocean."

Jack, "I love rebuilding things."

Speeding off on their Zippleback as fast as they can, the Twins join in on the fun, "We love to go FAST!"

"I love reading 'bout things…" Shy as ever, Fishlegs tries his luck.

From a lone group of Afghanis heading towards a mosque, "We love the whole world;"

"And all its craziness," the General was at the camp bar, enjoying a beer while observing amusedly the little drunken brawls between his soldiers.

"Boom de ya da, Boom de ya da," Somehow, the rest of Odin Squadron had caught up with us, singing along enthusiastically.

"Boom de ya da, BOOM de ya da!" Sgt. Gobber was at the range, test-firing the new automatic grenade launchers acquired from the Russian army, and enjoying it very much.

The lines were coming from all over now, "I love the sand storms!"

"I love myself at night!"

"I love my scorpions!"

"I love it when we fight!"

"We love the whole world; It's such a brilliant place!" By now, the entire base and all its personnel are singing joyously, echoing after us.

"Boom de ya da, boom de ya da;  
Boom de ya da, boom de ya da;"

The refrain continues on and on, casting the entire desert in chorus, making the world a fluffy, happy place. Flowers sprout where it was once too arid for anything to grow, and rainbows splash across the bright pink sky.

"Boom de ya da, boom de ya da;  
Boom de ya da, boom de ya da;"

Ah… I feel so happy… Leaping off Lightning, I tackle Jack off Toothless, and we tumble down onto the blooming meadows. Laughing and giggling in ecstasy, we roll around, enjoying the scent of tulips and daffodils.

"Boom de ya da, boom de ya da…"

When we come to a stop, I'm on top of him, looking down at his chiselled face, hand in his neat brown locks. Slowly, I lean in, breathing heavily.

"Astrid…" Sh… relax… let me do this… I can feel his breath on me; is he nervous as well?

"Astrid… Hey, Astrid? You there?"

What?

_

* * *

_

Reality, 1925hrs

"Astrid? Earth to Astrid, come in!"

"Wha… what?" I find myself sitting on Lightning, staring blankly into space. A small drop of drool is rolling off the side of my mouth; I wipe it off, hoping Jack didn't see it.

"Did you say something?" He looks at me, bewildered, completely caught off guard by my temporary loss of sanity.

Coughing awkwardly to hide my embarrassment, I wave it off, "No… nothing, just… just ignore me; random thoughts."

Returning my thoughts to focus on steering Lightning, I try to clear my mind. Stupid song just won't get out of my head…

_**

* * *

**_

A/N – I'm sorry. I just had to do this. The song is just too catchy, and I had to get this out of my system. Forgive me for this mind-numbing chapter; I promise something better the next time round.

_**I Love The World © Discovery Channel**_


	5. I Know Kung Fu

**Side Quest 4:**** I Know Kung Fu**

_Sparring Gymnasium, 1030hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock_

Walking through the CQB training complex, I arrive at the martial arts sparring gym, what we call the 'Dojo'. This was a centre comprised of about ten small sparring rings for individual sparring sessions, as well as a larger room for group-based training. For today's training programme, Astrid had requested the use of the facility to conduct a refresher course on handling close-quarters hand-to-hand combat for the members of Odin Squadron.

I was excused from this due to my leg; but as commanding officer, I had to come down to supervise.

I had asked her why; after all, we were a semi-airborne unit, where most of our time in combat is likely to be spent on dragonback. The chances of us even coming face-to-face with an enemy without our dragons is quite minimal, actually. Her only answer was, "You never know, your dragon could be unexpectedly incapacitated by enemy fire, leaving you exposed in enemy territory. It can't hurt to be prepared."

I'm not so sure about that…

I cringe as one more soldier is thrown into the fortunately padded wall of the sparring ring, letting out a yell of pain and surprise. Members of the unit were lining up to enter that one ring; Astrid had issued a challenge to end off today's session – if anyone could hit her, she'd treat them to a round of drinks tonight at the bar. Of course, with most of them being the hot-blooded young males that they are, they were more than willing to accept. The ladies, of course, knew better than to trifle with her. It was a deceptively simple task, "Hit me, if you can."

Fools. I inwardly laugh at their futile attempts.

One by one, boys walk confidently into the ring, taking up their preferred stance, then attacking furiously with punches, kicks and attempted throws. I notice something; it was always them attacking first, Astrid never made the first move.

Interesting technique; allow the enemy to move first, let yourself analyse his attack pattern, before coming up with a counter-attack to exploit his weaknesses. I smile; as expected of the best soldier of her age. Keeping her cool, she teasingly taunts the rest of the challengers, "Come on! Stop trying to hit me and hit me!"

Watching her dole out the pain, I am strangely at calm. It is like watching a graceful dance, every move perfectly choreographed. Every time she takes down a soldier, I silently cheer for her. Swiftly switching between stances, styles and techniques, Astrid executes a flurry of rapid strikes aimed at various body parts. It surprised me that no bones had been broken so far. Like water, she flows gracefully, swiftly, flexibly, striking with great power and speed. Her ponytail whips behind her, following smoothly the movements of her head.

It amazes me, how many martial arts styles Astrid knows. In the past ten minutes, I've already seen more than fifteen combat styles; traditional boxing, Shaolin Wushu, Aikido, Brazilian capoeira, Taekwondo, Wing Chun, KGB-style combat sambo, even Bruce Lee's Jeet Kune Do; all these seemingly mastered into an art form by her. She was like a one-girl Mixed Martial Arts competition.

"You think you know kung fu? Show me!" She taunts the final three challengers, now circling her in the ring, taking on her all together, on her request. Amateurs. Three on one – they don't stand a chance.

It lasts for no longer than thirty seconds. Calmly dodging and parrying, she directs their clumsy strikes away, sometimes causing them to even hit each other. A few well-placed jabs, and one goes down. Tripping the second one over, and following up with an open-palm strike to his chin in mid-air, another is down for the count. Whipping around rapidly, she delivers a flurry of kicks to the final contender's chest, knocking the air out of him, before grabbing his arm, slamming him onto the padded floor, using her own body as a lever to multiply the force.

I grimace as the last one hits the ground. Ouch; merciless as always, isn't she?

"Alright! Show's over, pack up and get ready for lunch at 1200hrs. See you at the canteen, afternoon's off for you guys."

Noticing me, she walks over dressed in her sports bra, form-fitting gym shorts, and a pair of Nike wrestling shoes. I compliment her, "Good job out there; you're as impressive as ever."

"Thanks, but I honesly think we should conduct more of these; your men are way below par," She never catches a break, does she? Smiling to myself, I get up with her help; I still need a bit more time to get used to my new leg.

Walking alongside her out of the room, I strike up a bit more conversation.

"Hey, after watching you for so long, I think I want to learn kung fu."

"… But your leg?"

"Leg, shmeg. I'll join you once I get better."

"… We'll see. For now, just focus on recovering, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

**A/N - Was watching The Matrix when this came up.**

**P/S I've done some character clothes design sketches, and probably will continue to do so in future. Check out destinyfreedom . deviantart . com, so far I've only got a few of Lt. Astrid up and available. Warmest Regards, DisneyAnime91**


	6. Through The Fire and The Flames

**Side Quest 5:**** Through The Fire And The Flames**

"NOW!"

Upon his command, I spin around, facing the monster, looking at her straight in the eye. In that split second, time seems to freeze. Centuries of hatred channelled into a fearsome glare, I stare her down. The Queen's five massive pairs of eyes, ten times greater than mine, narrow and shoot daggers at me. I smirk.

_Foolish pest; throw that insect off your back, and I may consider letting you live._

Unfortunately for you, Your Majesty, you're on the losing side.

For that moment, what shone in the Queen's eyes was no longer treachery or evil, but cold fear. The one dragon to stand up to her was the one most powerful beast this side of Earth, allied with the never-extinguishing fighting spirit of the human beings, not to mention their fearsome armaments and equipment that, in all honesty, far surpassed the power of any dragon's flame.

_No! That's not possible! What are you thinking? You fool!_

Too late for regrets, your Highness. Time to send you back to the dark abyss where you came from… in pieces!

Focusing eons of pent-up rage into its physical manifestation, on behalf of myself and the rest of my fellow betrayed brethren, I unleash what must have been the most powerful, concentrated bolt of plasma I have ever fired in my life, right in between those traitorous jaws. The flammable gas that had been collecting there, the fuel to her flames, ignited upon contact with my shot. From within, explosions blew apart her internal organs, charring her flesh, cooking her from within.

Roars of pain and agony from her do nothing to stop her impending doom, as black smoke billowed from the sides of her jaws. The Grim Reaper was upon her now, there's no stopping him from claiming his trophy.

Flapping my wings furiously, I dash past her, soaring towards the darkening sky once again. I'm not going to have come so far just to be caught in the impending explosion. As I speed past her eyes, she shoots another deathly stare at me.

_I'll see you in Hell, Black Storm._

Sniffing indignantly at her, I continue weaving through her collapsing mass. The bitch may be dead, but the danger isn't over yet. The detonation is deafening as she hits the ground, the impact sending deep, loud rumbles that rock the air around me.

Suddenly, an odd feeling overwhelms me, spreading from my tail, upwards, through my spine. This feeling… strangely familiar, but not in a good way. It's a feeling of… incapacitation. A cold shiver freezes me as I come to the horrible realization, the ghastly terror seeping throughout my veins. The human weapons that were strapped to my back, while so vital in raining blow after death blow upon the Queen, now feel suffocating and heavy, weighing me down. From above, a terrified yell from my human confirms my fears.

"No... No, not now! NO!"

Ahead, a large, bony tail emerges from the all-consuming fire that has now caught up to us. Roaring in exasperation and the frustration at having done so much only to have it end here, I can only thrash about helplessly as inertia forces us into a head-on collision.

The pain is numbing. I must have broken a few bones in the impact; I can't feel my tail. Straining to open my eyes, all I see are bright red, yellow and orange flames all around, threatening to consume me. My back feels light. Looking from the corner of my eyes, I notice the shattered cannons, the barrels that once cast a metal storm of death now bent, broken. The seat on which my human would sit on is burning up, blackening into carbon.

I suppose this is it.

Wait… Where's my human? I whip my head about, searching frantically for him.

Finally, I see his shadow below me, tumbling towards the blazing ground. He is unconscious. No, I will not let it end this way; we went in, guns blazing, we will come out in a matching blaze of glory.

Ignoring the throbbing pain, I flap my wings, hard. They threaten to break off themselves, but I hang on, despite the blinding numbness.

Reaching him, I wrap my wings around my beloved rider, as I myself give in, barreling towards the flames. Well, at least my fireproof skin can protect him; prevent his body from being charred beyond recognition, to at least give him a chance to stand by his fellow brothers and sisters once again, to give him another chance to be with his mate, that human female he cares for so much.

This is the least I can do for him.

Closing my eyes, I let go of my last strands of consciousness. As the memories flash past in my mind; of our first meeting, of our first flight together, of my little 'play session' to scare his mate, of our daring escape from my captors; I think to myself.

Thank you, human, for you have allowed this cold-blooded heart, hardened by centuries of oppression and hate, to experience true emotion yet again.


	7. The Beautiful Game

**Side Quest 6:**** The Beautiful Game**

_June 2018  
Cpt. Jack Haddock_

Every four years, countries come together, to stand apart; to buy their tickets and never once sit in their seat.

Yes, it's that one event every four years, where the world comes to a standstill, eyes fixed on a single round object, be it on the field, on television, or on the computer screen. When everything stops, and revolves around a stadium.

Yes, it's the World Cup.

The ATF may be a transnational organisation, but that does not mean we don't take sides in soccer. The past month, fellow soldiers and close comrades who fight alongside each other in daily life, now face each other down, on opposite sides of the pitch. Everyone returns to their original loyalties; even those from countries not playing in the final tournament have found a team to root for.

Every other day, across the installation, everyone gathers at the nearest screen, and for two whole hours, they stand there, cheering their lungs out, to bleed their colours, and to leave everything on the field, in the pub, or on the street. Bets are made, winners enjoying not only their monetary gains, but the satisfaction that they were right; losers vent their disappointment at the pub, gathering with like-minded supporters of their team.

That's the way it has been for the past month. Joys, anger and sorrows, blood, sweat and tears, all culminating in the next ninety minutes. It's the final match between England and Spain, where the best of the best will be crowned the champions of the world. Tensions are high, supporters and non-fans just basking in the excitement alike are crowded around screens, awaiting the kick-off with great anticipation.

I'm with Astrid, a can of Coke in my hands. Brazil had been booted off in the semi-finals, much to my father's shock and disappointment; he had been a staunch Brazilian supporter. ("They represent the best of South American football!") I never shared his love for football, but I enjoyed observing others watch the game; it is an interesting show of emotional highs and lows.

Astrid, however, is less equivocal. And that is why I am sitting next to her, dragged into this claustrophobic crowd. She is dressed in a knee-length camouflage-print cargo skirt and combat boots; proudly donning a replica England football jersey, she has replaced her normal red-and-gold headband for a white strip of cloth, painted with the traditional red cross seen on the English flag.

The pub is divided neatly in half, the drinks bar serving as the dividing border; one side in red and white, and the other in yellow and red.

And I am awkwardly stuck in the middle. The younger bartenders are visibly nervous of the growing crowd; there's no telling when a brawl could break out between the two opposing factions.

After what seemed like forever, the whistle finally goes off.

At that moment, in some stadium in America, twenty-two grown men begin jostling for a ball. The hopes of a nation pinned on each and every one of them, they play on.

Every time the ball comes close, pings off the goal post, or becomes firmly lodged in the goalkeepers' hands, moans of disappointment and cheers of relief echo throughout the pub. Roars of disdain at perceived foul play and painful tackles sound out at irregular intervals; once in a while, there is an occasional exclamation, "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT REFEREE DOING? !"

Observing Astrid, I watch her range of expressions, as she pours out her heart and soul, cheering madly for her home team. I smile and enjoy the view, of men and women giving it their all in supporting their team of choice.

The players come off at half time, at a score of 0-0. The match had been tense, with a few close calls, but the teams held their own. I return to my drink, and Astrid takes a seat next to me, a little disappointed at the lack of goals, and maybe nervous about the next 45 minutes of the match. We swap a couple of comments on the game; I may not follow it much, but I do know quite a bit about football itself.

The second half begins soon after. The players go at it again, chasing after the ball, passing it about the pitch, looking for opportunities.

Finally in the dying minutes of the match, an English striker hits home. The bar goes up in a deafening roar.

"GOOOOAAAAAALLLLLL!"

Fellow Englishmen and women leap off their chairs in joy, some of the spilling their beers onto the tables, knocking over their glasses in joy. The bartenders are visibly irritated by the mess, but they hold their cool.

The final whistle blows, and the place just explodes. I am nearly choked as Astrid pulls me into a spine-crushing bear hug, screaming in ecstasy at the English victory. The fans are singing loudly the songs of their country in happiness, celebrating their World Cup win. The French supporters can only shrug and smile in defeat; well, there's always next time. Handshakes are offered and drinks are treated, as everyone settles down in the aftermath.

Looking all around me, I realise something; even though we all once took different sides, we're now all under one organisation. Under the ATF, we've let go of our political loyalties, fighting as one universal body. We now stand together as one, no matter which teams we may support off the battlefield.

The World Cup is special that way. Because, in the end, no matter who wins, we all will remember how divided we stood; united in football.

_

* * *

_

Toothless

Twenty-two fully-matured male humans, eleven on each side, on a large patch of grass. All chasing after one ball. The apparent objective is to kick it into the net on either side. One human, dressed differently from the others, makes irritating high-pitched noises and flashes coloured cards at the others if he's not happy. And every four years, they go crazy watching it happen. Cocking my brow, I watch their antics in mild disgust from the roof I am resting on. Can't they just each go find their own ball, instead of fighting over one?

I sniff haughtily, returning to nap in the warm sun.

Humans. I'll never understand them.


	8. Vintovka Dragunova

**Side Quest 7:**_**Vintovka Dragunova**_

_General's Office, 0845hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock_

I wait in my father's office; he called me up for a meeting this morning, here, to discuss some issues regarding the development of my squadron of dragonback combatants.

I'm early, the General is probably just finishing his breakfast. Twiddling my thumbs, I sit there in the chair, bored out of my mind. Training has started already; Astrid is handling that while I'm unable to supervise for the moment.

The door opens, and he steps in. "Ah, Jack, you're here early, I thought we were only meeting at 9?"

"Well, Dad, it doesn't hurt to be early, right? Plus I don't have anything else to do at the moment."

Nodding with a smile, the General takes his seat across the desk. He reaches for a folder under his desk, brining it out and opening it, browsing through its contents. I look on curiously, awaiting my instructions.

"Right… Jack, as you know, Odin Squadron is steadily growing; recruits are warming up to the concept and beginning to sign up with their own dragons. With only the two of you commanding almost a hundred of them, even with the help of your small group of specialists, it's bound to get a little tight on you, am I right?"

I nod in agreement, it has definitely been getting tougher and tougher to handle the fast-expanding unit.

"As such, I've sent scouts across the world to search for talented guns-for-hire, to put them within your unit as commanders to assist you and Lt. Astrid, as you may know."

"It's been rough, though. Our search has turned up a few names; only one has accepted our offer so far, and it was only after much negotiation on our part that we managed to acquire her services. She will be joining us as of today; you will probably meet her later at the training complex this afternoon."

The General hands a brown, thin folder to me. I open it, and read the personnel case documents filed within.

"These are her details. Vladilena Ivanova, 25. Ex-Spetsnaz GRU commander, and underground Russian Mafia leader. Imprisoned upon the discovery of her abuse of her position in the Special Forces to cover up her criminal activities and empower the Mafia within Moscow. In fact, under her, the Mafia grew so strong, it took the combined efforts of the KGB and the Spetsnaz commandoes to incapacitate them in order to capture Ivanova. So many lives were lost to her hands, she was nicknamed 'Bloodhound of Moscow.'"

"Veteran of the battlefield, she has taken part in several covert and black operations, specialising in sabotage as well as frontline combat. A skilled strategist and well-rounded fighter, combined with the cold, calculating mind of a criminal – the perfect soldier."

Shocked by her… horrific résumé, I give my father an incredulous look. "Why then, are you assigning her to my unit and not, say, our SpecOps troops? I'm sure she'd be more suited there!"

"I knew you'd ask… It's because she has her own dragon."

I am stunned. I knew dragons existed all over, but it was the fact that we weren't the first to physically own them surprised me.

"Apparently, according to what we know, she has owned her own pet dragon since young, a gift from her Mafia parents. With regards to the species, we have yet to find out ourselves."

"Uh… okay… so when is she coming?" Taking a deep breath, I steel myself; There's no helping it, we are going to need all the help we can get, criminal background or not.

"Well, she should be arriving later, ETA 1200hrs. You are to rendezvous with her at 1230hrs, I've instructed her to meet you at the Dragon Combat Centre."

My mouth goes dry, "Huh?"

Me? Meet up with a feared, hardened Russian Mafia ringleader? I'm already crapping in my pants just facing up against a pre-menstrual Lt. Astrid Hofferson, and you expect me to smile and say 'Hi!' to a high-profile gangster and killer?

The General is adamant, "Yes, I suppose as her commanding officer, it is your duty to welcome her, right? Son, it took us real pains in negotiating with the Russian government to release her from the death row. Please don't screw this up."

This day just can't get any better, can it?

_

* * *

_

Dragon Combat Training Centre, 1235hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock

I'm pacing about nervously outside the block, wondering when the new rider would show up. She was already five minutes late. Checking my watch, I tap my bionic foot anxiously. In my mind, vivid imagery was cropping up all over.

I wonder what she must look like, and what kind of dragon she owns. The image of a scarred, tall, dark woman in a business suit came up, hiding a Desert Eagle under her blazer, smoking a Cuban cigar. My wonderful imagination didn't help at all, only serving to heighten my suspense.

I wait a little longer; after a few moments, I give up. Alright, she's not coming, all the better for me.

As I turn away, I hear a young, feminine voice.

"Excuse me?"

Back stepping, I look around, to see a woman, standing there. Tall, slim, similar in stature to Astrid, except with longer, strawberry-blonde hair… and a much larger… chest area. She is dressed in military fatigues, carrying a brown duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She seems nervous, and a little lost. I offer a helping hand, "May I help you? Are you looking for anyone?"

"Yes… I am looking for this… Cpt. Jack Haddock?" Her voice has a distinctly Russian accent.

"That would be me." I introduce myself.

"Ah! _Kapitan_, I was instructed to meet you; I apologize for being late. I am Vladilena Ivanova, at your service."

My warm smile freezes on my face. What did she just say?

Stammering, I try to regain my cool, "Ah… sorry, I… I didn't catch your name…"

"Ivanova; Vladilena Ivanova." She gives me a smile, extending her hand.

My mind must be playing tricks on me. This beautiful lady in front of me can't be the prolific serial gangster, can it? Not knowing what else to do, I return her handshake.

"… Your hands… they're shivering. I thought this place would be hot?" She narrows her eyes, her voice suddenly wary. Shit… that's not good!

"I… ah, I'm… sorry…" I'm stuttering, losing it in front of her.

She gives me a smirk, which grows into soft laughter uncharacteristic of what her history shows, sounding more like a laughing high school girl than a cackling villain.

"Don't worry, _kommandir_, I left Mother Russia with a clean slate. No longer am I leader of Hotel Moscow. I serve the Kremlin no more, and my connections with the Mafia are severed. With my release from the _gulag_, the deal was that I renounce Mother Russia as my home. Here, I am merely Ivanova, soldier of the ATF, serving under you, _Kapitan_. The Bloodhound's guns are yours to command."

Her statement is strangely calming, and despite the remaining reservations inside me, I am thankful, speaking smoothly, now that I know she is on our side, for now. Heaving a sigh of relief, I continue our conversation.

"Oh yes, I heard you have a dragon of your own?"

"Da!" Excited, she calls to the skies in Russian, "_Prihodit!_"

Upon her summons, a wind whips by, and in a flash, before us is a large dragon. I am awed by its presence; while not much larger than the dragons we see here, it is much sleeker in shape, its wings bat-like and leathery. Its horns are slicked back, its jaws forming a streamlined shape. Most striking and dazzling of all, its scales are opalescent, shimmering in a variety of colours.

"This is Stormfly. She is a _Nastroenie Drakona_; a Mood-dragon."

"A Mood-dragon?" I am taken aback. These are extremely rare, and number less than fifty throughout the whole world! Few have ever seen one, much less own one! Shocked, I ask, "How did you get her?"

"Stormfly has been with me since young. My father came across her egg in smuggled treasures. He gave it to me, and it hatched to give me her." Her eyes shine softly, as she seemingly reminisces about her childhood days; the more I speak with her, the more unbelievable it is that this woman is the Bloodhound of Moscow.

"She's beautiful."

"_Spasibo_. I love it when her scales change colour with her moods." The smile on her face is soft, gentle, completely unlike that of a criminal. I approach the dragon slowly; almost immediately, its scales shimmer pink and it draws away from me; laughing softly, Vladilena explains, "She's shy."

Sighing in disbelief, I officially welcome Vladilena with a smile, "Well, Ms. Ivanova, I believe we should get along just fine; I'll introduce you to the rest of the unit tomorrow. As commanding officer of the unit, I welcome you and Stormfly to Odin Squadron."

Giggling, she replies, "Thank you, _kommandir_. I look forward to fighting and training alongside you."

Suddenly, she leans near; her warm, sweet scent fills my nose, her hair brushing against me. Her pose greatly emphasises her… assets. I blush. Winking, she continues, "And please,call me Ilena."

"KEH-HEM"

A loud cough breaks the awkward silence that follows. Pulling away from me, Ilena turns around to face a very… suspicious Lt. Astrid. She is not pleased.

"You must be the new rider." There is a mildly haughty tone in that voice. "Impressive dragon, but I don't know what you can do with it yet."

"Lt. Hofferson. A pleasure to meet you." Without skipping a beat, Ilena coolly offers a handshake. Astrid hesitates, before returning it.

"Vladilena, is it?"

"Ilena is fine."

"I'll brief you on our training schedules. Follow me, I'll show you to your quarters. By the way, your callsign from now on will be 'Camicazi'."

"Sounds good. I like it."

The two ladies turn to face me; Ilena gives me a friendly farewell wave, and I wave back sheepishly at the striking beauty, her dragon at her side.

The other one, though, doesn't look too happy. Shooting me a piercing gaze, she gestures at me behind the Russian's back.

_You're going to get it from me later._

What did I do?

_I saw you staring at her chest, you pervert._

… Shit.

_**

* * *

**_

A/N – Camicazi and Stormfly © Cressida Crowell. Both are characters from the original How To Train Your Dragon series of childrens' books. Something interesting to note, though; some say that Astrid was based off the character of Camicazi, also a fierce warrior girl who is Hiccup's friend.


	9. Love, Jealousy and Russian Alcohol

**Side Quest 8: Love, Jealousy and Russian Alcohol**

_Officer's Mess Hall, 2000hrs  
Lt. Astrid Hofferson_

The cold, frothy drink flows down the back of my throat, flushing down my irritation. The beer leaves a mildly bitter aftertaste in my mouth, an effect of the flavour of hops and the alcohol. I'm not usually a drinker, but a bottle of beer every other week serves its stress-relieving purposes. Plus I read somewhere that alcohol in small quantities decreases the risk of cardiac disease, stroke and cognitive decline.

I take another swig, emptying the bottle to the last drop.

That stupid asshole… what's with that? Staring at the new girl like that… What a pervert. She's a full seven years older than him, too.

Slamming the empty bottle of Carlsberg onto the table, I call for another pint from the bartender. I'm sitting in a corner of the hall, in a booth of my own. Staring out of the third-storey window, I watch as soldiers and personnel go about their evening duties. Rapping my fingers in irritation against the table, I wonder why I'm in such a bad mood over such a small issue.

My second bottle arrives; grabbing it, I unsheathe my combat knife and use it to pop the cap off.

"Um… please… no weapons please…" The nervous, shaking bartender politely requests for me to keep my knife.

"Shut up… alright, fine." Returning my knife back into its sheath on my belt, I shoot a glare at the poor, trembling boy, scaring him off. Pussy.

Returning to my drink, I continue contemplating my feelings.

Am I not good enough for him? Is it because I'm not… feminine enough? Or is it because…

I make sure no one is looking at me, before looking down myself. Sure, they may not look it, but I _am_ a C-cup…

Cupping my chest, I cop a feel, examining them, and then privately blushing in embarrassment at what I was doing.

Damn, they ARE small. Maybe I've been working out a little too much.

Huffing, I examine by body a little further. At least my stomach is flat… albeit a little muscular for a girl. Is my butt too firm?

"Mind if I join, you, _Lyeitenant_?" The voice jolts me back, and I frantically look around, face flushed red in embarrassment. Standing at the front of my table is the new rider… Ilena, was it?

"S… sure, go ahead." At my prompting, she smiles, and takes the seat opposite me.

We continue drinking in silence. Through the corner of my eye, I examine her from top to toe. It's true; she is a striking Russian beauty, attracting the attention of the hot-blooded males currently staring at her. Not to mention, she does have substantially-sized… assets. Blushing at my own realisation, it only serves to decrease my self-esteem.

"Anything wrong, _lyeitenant_?" She notices me staring at her, and I hastily look away. "No… nothing…"

"I am curious… what do you think about the _Kommandir_?"

The question catches me off guard. Sputtering, I nearly spray beer all over the table. Coughing uncomfortably, I reply, "I… I don't know what you're talking about."

We're seeing each other, but we haven't let the rest of the world know yet…

Ilena cocks her eyebrow suspiciously. A sly smirk curls the corner of her mouth. Teasingly, she continues speaking in a deepened tone, her Russian accent suddenly seeming so much heavier, "I was thinking… Cpt. Jack… he is quite a cute boy. I wonder if he's taken?"

"H… how would I know?"

"Hmm? Being his second-in-command, I would have expected you to know… or are you hiding something?" Is this her evil villain personality coming out? I'm sweating, my heart pounding nervously.

A few seconds of awkward silence follows. Before I can say anything, though, Ilena breaks into laughter. Whipping my head around, looking for any cameras, I pray this isn't some joke video to be put up on YouTube.

"Ah, _lyeitenant_, you're so cute and fun to talk to." Recovering from her fit of laughter, she pours out another shot of vodka into her glass and downs it. Glancing over at my half-empty bottle of beer, she comments, "Beer? Typical English."

"Anything wrong with that, Ruskie?" My gaze hardens. I'm not liking this woman more and more…

Her smirk suddenly becomes a little more sinister. "No, nothing wrong. It's just that beer… it's just like piss water. No matter how much you drink, you can't get drunk, _da_?"

"Now, Vodka, _that's_ more of a _real soldier's _drink, isn't it?" Pouring out another glass of the clear spirit, she slides it over to me. I look at it hesitantly, not knowing whether to take it or not.

Her tone is arrogant, a little challenging, "No offense, _lyeitenant_, but you can't even take on a so-called _commie_ in a drinking contest? I'm not saying you couldn't beat me… But you might as well take off those pants and put on a skirt; put ribbons in your hair and go to a ball, _da?_ Ha ha…"

Alright, that's it! In a beat, I grab the glass and down it in a single gulp. Slamming the empty glass back onto the table, I grin in satisfaction, the alcohol causing the blood to rush to my head. Inside, I was screaming for water to soothe the burning sensation of 50% alcohol going down my throat. But I hid it.

Ilena's smirk widens, as our gazes meet in a cold staredown that could have frozen hell over.

"_Da!_ _Barmenn!_"

"Bring us all the _Imperia _(1) you've got!"

**

* * *

**

The growing rivalry between the two ladies comes to an alcohol-laced confrontation! To be continued in the next chapter, nausea and hangovers galore!

**(1) – A well-known brand of premium Vodka, Imperia utilizes a 19th-century recipe developed by chemist Dimitri Mendeleev (inventor of the Periodic Table of Elements), and patented by the government of St. Petersburg. Winter wheat, harvested from the black soil of the Russian steppes, creates a liquor that undergoes a total of eight distillations before glacial water from Lake Ladoga brings it down to proper proof. The liquid then passes through both charcoal and quartz crystal multiple times to strain out any impurities.**


	10. How To Speak Drunkenese

**Side Quest 9: How To Speak Drunkenese**

_Officer's Quarters, 2100hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock_

The knocking on my door draws me away from the pile of paperwork on my desk. Glancing at my watch, I wonder who it could be at this late hour. Beside me, Toothless stirs from his sleep, growling softly. Getting up, he assists me with getting off my chair; I still have yet to get fully used to it – while I can walk and climb stairs smoothly now, I still need some assistance standing up.

"Thanks, buddy." It had taken some pains, but I had negotiated for Toothless to stay with me in my room.

Gingerly making my way over to the door, I get Toothless to stay behind; the Night Fury had a nasty habit of pouncing on anyone he didn't know. The knocking is getting a little more frantic.

"Coming!" I finally unlock the door and swing it open.

I am greeted by an extremely awkward sight.

"YOOOO! LOOKIT HERE WHO WE GOT! JACK, MY BUDDEEE!"

"…Astrid? You okay?" She stumbles past me into my room, a wide, ridiculous grin plastered on her face. Her voice sounds funny, notched up a few decibels. Lightly punching me on my shoulder, she takes a few more steps into the room.

"YESH. I AM FINE-hic-" tripping over a chair, she lands face-first onto the floor. "SHTILL FINE."

Looking out the door, I see Ilena standing there sheepishly, hands fiddling behind her back. Voice filled with disbelief, I voice out the question that is now burning into my mind, "Uh…What happened?"

"THE UNICORN IS PEEING RAINBOWS ACROSS THE HARBOUR! WE MUST STOP BATMAN BEFORE HE EATS THE PRESIDENT'S SOCKS!"

"It's my fault, Sir. I probably shouldn't have offered her the vodka." Slapping my forehead, I can only sigh deeply in resignation. Great, she's drunk. Behind me, she pokes the unmoving black lump that is Toothless.

"Never mind, Ilena… You head on back to your bunk and rest. I… I'll take over from here."

Bowing her head in apology, she closes the door for me while I lift Astrid up from the floor, before the now-irritated Toothless can smack her across the room with his tail.

She grabs my hair. "WHOO- I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS SO SOFT! IT'S SOOOOO NICE TO TOUCH! EEEEEE~"

Ignoring the incessant rubbing of my hair, I pause for a moment, and decide to make a video recording of this with my cell phone camera. When her mind returns to normal, she surely wouldn't believe a single word that I say, so I would need evidence to prove it.

"WATSH YOU DOING TO MEEE."

"You're drunk, Astrid, let's get you to bed."

"NO I NOT DRUNK -hic- LET ME GOOO." She attempts to wriggle free from my grip in her drunken stupor, but fails miserably. Wow. Surprised at what alcohol can do to you, I take advantage of her lack of muscular strength as a result of her inebriated state, and drag her over to my bed.

"AAH HA JACK IS TAKING MY ASS TO BED! WHOO BET YOU NEVER THOUGHT I'D SAY THAT!" Laughing at her own stupid joke, she gives up resisting me. I can only roll my eyes at her idiocy. The charm of her alcohol-induced humour knows no bounds.

After much struggling, and some help from Toothless, I finally manage to get her to lie down on my bed. The smell of alcohol on her breath, her face is flushed redder than a tomato. What am I going to do with her?

Looking over to Toothless, he snorts and looks away, before curling up into a corner, falling back to sleep. _She's your problem, not mine._

Sighing, I return to my table to clear up.

Suddenly, I feel something soft hit the back of my head. Surprised, and a little shocked, I turn around and pick up whatever it was that hit me. Brown fabric… is this a tank top?

Realising the gravity of the situation, I whip around to look at Astrid. My face going beet-red, I rush over as soon as I catch sight of her, throwing the nearest available jacket, normally slung over my chair, onto her now-bare torso, save for a black strapless bra.

"A… Astrid! What are you doing? !" Shoving me away, she slips off the jacket and proceeds to unbutton her pants.

"AAN~ ITSH SO HOT. WHATSHUP WITH THIS BLANKET. I DON WANNA NO BLANKET. MMMNNNGH!" Moaning, she kicks the sheets off my bed along with her boots, struggling to slide her pants off. I only catch a glimpse of her beautifully-tanned, slender thighs before I make a dash for my bathroom door, breathing heavily, heart hammering away, my face burning up.

No, this is not good; not good at all! I had to think of something, and fast!

I look around for something I can use. Nothing but soap, a shower, and towels… my mind is wandering all over the place, imagination stepping into forbidden territories. I had to mentally slap myself a couple of times to calm myself down.

… That's it!

Stepping out of the bathroom, I have a face towel wrapped around my eyes. Not the best solution, but the only one I can think of at the moment. I slowly work my way over to the bed, switching off the lights on the way there just in case, based on the layout of my room as I remember it.

In Asia, they say that in times of trouble, your inner third eye will open to give you sight even when you are blind. I really hope it's true.

When I finally reach the bed, I cautiously peek from underneath my blindfold, just to make sure.

There she is, lying there on her side in nothing but her underwear; a black strapless bra, a matching pair of bikini briefs and a pair of brown ankle-length socks. Her eyes are closed; she's probably already knocked out. Gulping, I pull the towel back over my eyes to stop them from wandering any further. Silently, I reach for the sheets; I don't want her catching a cold now from the freezing desert night air, she's already perspiring pretty badly, from the effects of the vodka.

That musky smell of alcohol, combined with that sweet smell that always accompanies her… Unable to resist, I peek again as I draw the sheets over her. The sweat on her body shines under the blue moonlight. The shadows accentuate her svelte figure, outlining the defined contours of her muscular, yet slender physique. The tanned skin is a strangely artistic contrast with the white, crumpled sheets she is lying on. My heart beats even faster at the scene of beauty; I'm afraid the loud thumping might wake her up.

"Jack?" My heart stops for a moment, and I whip around to face away. I didn't need any misunderstandings now…

"Jack… are you there?" Her voice is tired, soft… a little slurry, though.

"Ah… uh, yeah," I uneasily reply, stuttering from nervousness.

"… Do you like me?"

The question stuns me. It's probably the alcohol, but she has never been so frank with that topic before. "Why… why do you ask?"

"… Are my boobs too small?" Definitely the alcohol speaking there. Sputtering, I don't know what to say or do at that moment.

"… Astrid, you need to rest." Adjusting the blindfold, I resume pulling the sheets back over her. But a soft hand pushes the towel off my eyes, leaving me baffled, not knowing where to look, and very embarrassed, "Look at me, Jack."

"Astrid, I…"

"LOOK AT ME!" her voice is wavering, and from the corner of my eyes, I see her eyes are shimmering in the light.

Trying very hard to keep my cool, I focus my eyes on hers. As our gazes meet, I see in front of me a defenceless, insecure girl who just wants to be loved.

"Do you like me?" She repeats the question. A smile creeps across my face, and I sigh.

"… Yeah, I like you… heck, I love you, Astrid. There's no other person for me, honest. Now don't you worry, just have a good rest for tonight." Moving closer, I give her a light kiss on the lips. Her red face turns an even richer shade of crimson. Lying down, she lets me pull the sheets to cover the rest of her body, and I watch in silent amusement as she drifts off into dreamland.

Now all I need is a cold shower...

_

* * *

_

Officers' Quarters, 0800hrs  
Lt. Astrid Hofferson

My throbbing brain is enough to wake me up. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I look around the room for any sign that would tell me what happened yesterday. The aching head is numbing, the pain blocking out all rational thoughts except for this one.

What the hell was I doing last night? !

Wait. This isn't my room. I'm only in my underwear. I was drinking last night. The realisations come to me one by one, and like a connect-the-dots puzzle, I slowly put together the picture.

I wake up in another person's room in my underwear after a night of drinking. My head in my hands, my imagination works wonders in coming up with possible scenarios.

Before I can do anything else, a strange feeling churns from my stomach. Oh shi-

Making a dash for the bathroom, I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. The horrid taste of stomach acid fills my mouth, worsening the still-pounding headache. I swear there's a little man doing construction work inside my skull. Retching a second time, the nausea fills my systems.

I'm never doing that again. Ever.

Panting heavily, I flush the toilet and wash out the taste of stomach acid from my mouth.

Walking out of the bathroom, still in my underwear, I try to make sense of the situation.

That is when I notice Jack. Slumped over the table, he is deep asleep. Next to him is a note, a large bottle of water and a box of headache relief pills. On the table is also a set of neatly-folded casual clothes.

_Got these from the dispensary last night. I'm pretty sure you'll need them. Take the bottle of water; rehydrate yourself to shorten the hangover. I've washed your clothes; in the meantime feel free to use mine. You're lucky it's a Sunday morning :)  
Love, Jack.  
P/S You might want to take a look in my phone._

After popping a couple of pills and downing half the bottle, I put on a set of Jack's T-shirt and long pants. They fit rather well, to my surprise. Finally, I turn my attention to the oddly-worded last sentence.

Flipping open his cellphone conveniently placed on his bedside table, I notice a video file. I play it, out of curiosity.

"_WHOO- I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS SO SOFT! IT'S SOOOOO NICE TO TOUCH! EEEEEE~ SOFTIE HAIR EEEE~"_

"_NO I NOT DRUNK -hic- LET ME GOOO." _

"_AAH HA JACK IS TAKING MY ASS TO BED! WHOO BET YOU NEVER THOUGHT I'D SAY THAT! NYAAHAHAHAAAA!"_

HOLY SHIT.

Burying my head in my hands in shame, I can only curl up in the corner, traumatised by my drunken alter ego. Next to me, Toothless, who just happens to be sitting there, just stares at me. Shaking his head, he gives me a condescending look, multiplying my embarrassment tenfold. Stupid dragon.

Up on the desk, Jack is stirring. "Hngh… Oh hey, Astrid, you're up early."

"SHUT. UP."

"…Okay."


	11. ATF Personnel Case Files 02

**-RESTRICED: STAFF-IN-CONFIDENCE-**

**ATF PERSONNEL CASE FILES 02**

**Staff Sgt. ****Gobbán '****Gobber' Blake  
**Irish  
Stout, burly; bionic arm and leg, lost in combat; Balding

A veteran of many battles, and with the scars to prove it, SSgt. Gobber is a much-respected soldier within the ATF, amongst superiors and students alike. His main job in the base is being one of the primary engineer and weapons specialists. In his spare time, though, he conducts combat courses and assists in instructing new recruits and trainees in the ways of the battlefield.

He is close friends with the General; they were in the same platoon, and fought many battles together, covering each others' backs and asses every time. Much to the General's chagrin, though, Gobber can't be bothered with being promoted, even though he deserves it; always making up an excuse that he 'can't take the responsibility' or 'doesn't like the limelight'. All in all, a respectable, but easy-going man whose valuable combat experiences place him amongst the most important of personnel within the ATF.

**

* * *

**

2nd Lt. Vladilena 'Camicazi' Ivanova

Russian  
Well-built & shapely, average height; strawberry-blonde hair, shoulder-length, curled outwards

The only daughter of a powerful Russian Mafia leader and a Japanese Yakuza heiress, she inherited the leadership of the powerful Hotel Moscow Russo-Japanese crime conglomerate after her father's death from cancer. At that point in time, she had worked her way to being one of the top officers in the Spetsnaz GRU. A powerful combatant with the cold, calculating mind of a strategist, she was held in great respect among her comrades, until her imprisoment upon the discovery of her abuse of her position in the Special Forces to cover up her criminal activities and empower the Mafia within Moscow. Under her unfaltering, uncompromising leadership, the Mafia grew stronger and stronger, until it took the combined efforts of the KGB and the Spetsnaz commandoes to incapacitate them long enough to capture Ivanova. She herself put up such a fearsome last stand that it was estimated at least 50 lives were lost to her guns and her rare Mood-dragon Stormfly. For that, she earned the title 'Bloodhound of Moscow'.

Though she is now under the conditional employment of the ATF as a supporting officer in Odin Squadron, her motives and goals remain unclear. It will take time before the ATF is able to establish her true loyalties. But for now, Odin Squadron needs soldiers like her.


	12. Taming the Hound, Pt1

**Side Quest 10: Taming the Hound, Pt.1**

_Live Firing Practice Course, Dragon Combat Variant (Open-Combined), 1300hrs_

From the sky, the woman descends rapidly, leaning forward, bringing her dragon into a dive towards the ground with unprecedented speed and agility. The dragon's opalescent scales phase into a reddish-brown colour, following its change in emotions; it is confident, readying itself for the assault. At that speed, the dragon forms a streak of red in the afternoon desert sky. The rider's sharp eyes catch sight of the land targets in the middle of the desert, even before she enters their scanner range.

Two tanks, an anti-air gun, a machine gun emplacement and a platoon of soldiers. _Mishenyami;_ sitting ducks.

"_Po nazemnym tselyam, tsel'_Ground targets, aim" Speaking in Russian, callsign 'Camicazi' readies her dragon, Stormfly. Eyes narrowing, she awaits the right moment, for the targets to just enter her effective range of fire.

"_Ogon'!_" Upon the command, the dragon unleashes a barrage of rapid-firing red-hot flaming arrows. Like flaming rocket-propelled grenades, they scream through the air, leaving trails of grey smoke in their wake. The Mood-dragons were known for the extremely explosive projectiles that were fired during their assaults, with power almost surpassing that of the plasma blasts from a Night Fury.

The projectiles find their mark; upon contact, they explode in a brilliant ball of orange and red. The steel vehicles stand no chance; they are blown into smithereens. The soldiers are engulfed in the fireball; none of them know what hit them. A textbook takedown.

"100% of land targets, terminated. Time – 45 seconds. Move on to the next stage." The instructions come in through the intercom.

"_Slushaus' lyeitenant,_Understood, Lieutenant. Heading to checkpoint." Pulling back, Camicazi brings her dragon into a steady climb, swiftly soaring towards the next zone.

Low roars and growls indicate the arrival of the next wave of assault. From multiple directions came a number of dragons and their riders flying towards her, weaving through the sky.

"_Neskolʹko kontaktov!_Multiple contacts!" She was severely outnumbered; at least four flights of attackers were coming her way. Eight Nightmares, two Nadders, about four Zipplebacks and a few more Gronckles.

_Nikakìh problèm._ A confident smile curls at the corner of her mouth.

Taking advantage of her dragon's agility, Camicazi leads her pursuers into a flight chase through the clouds, diving and climbing with ease. The rattle of machinegun fire, and the bullets whizzing by her do nothing to shake her confidence.

_Lyubiteli; _amateurs. Smirking, she initiates a tight turn, whipping around on her dragon. "_Ogon'!_"

The explosive projectiles hit a Gronckle on its side, stunning it and downing its rider. He'll live; that was a non-lethal strike.

Executing a perfect barrel roll, she narrowly brushes past another rider, disabling him with a melee attack to the chest performed while still holding on to Stormfly. Taking the chance, Camicazi swipes the loaded AK-47 off the rider, disarming him for good.

Using her legs to grip firmly onto her harness on, she performs a number of close maneuvers, weaving swiftly through the flights of attackers. Pulling the trigger on the newly-acquired assault rifle, she unleashes her own torrent of projectiles onto surprised riders and dragons alike. Leaping off Stormfly and over an oncoming Nightmare, she fires a few rounds into the back of the rider before grabbing hold onto an unsuspecting Zippleback. Using its harness as a grip, she swings herself up and over, pumping the last of the bullets into the rider. Letting go, she lands neatly, returning to her dragon's back.

The show of acrobatics wasn't over, though. In a final act of showmanship, she slips below her dragon, hanging underneath and tossing a grenade into the lap of the last rider. The grenade goes off in his face before he can say anything, finishing him off.

The confident smirk that had always been there on her face grows wider, as she radios the Lieutenant. "_Da, lyeitenant;_ air targets, terminated."

"Message confirmed. Time – 245 seconds. Not bad, return to base."

_

* * *

_

Live Firing Practice Course, Command Centre, 1300hrs  
Lt. Astrid Hofferson

"Snotlout, your team's been wiped out. Report back for cleanup, debrief and AAR."

"What? I almost had her!" The shock in his voice is evident; he obviously didn't expect such an easy defeat at the hands of the new rider. Voice dripping with cynicism, I reiterate my orders.

"Since when was having a grenade go off in your face counted as 'almost winning'? Ilena's already at the landing bay. Move your ass."

"Whatever. How do you get this paint off? Stupid Simunitions… Hurts like hell, too."

"Not my problem, Sergeant. Get back here ASAP. Comms Centre over and out," Releasing the button on the switchboard, I end the transmission. Turning to Jack, seated and observing the simulated skirmish alongside me. He is as impressed as I am by Ilena's combat prowess.

"She and her dragon started with one grenade and a combat knife, and took down our best flights in less than ten minutes. That's one hell of a soldier you've brought me, Jack."

"Don't thank me, my Dad did it. Anyway, I guess that just leaves the off-dragon combat qualifications before she gets commissioned as our officer, right?" Getting up, Jack walks over to my side, and looks out the panoramic bulletproof window, watching as the rest of the dragons come in, flying onto the landing bay.

"Ooh, that's got to hurt." I follow his gaze, and see Snotlout, his face and torso splattered in the bright pink liquid from the paint grenade. The other riders have blobs of pink on them as well, splattered on their backs and chests, but none have it as bad as their Sergeant.

Turning to each other, Jack and I burst out laughing at the ridiculous sight of the normally proud, masculine and burly boy being covered in a very embarrassing shade of hot pink. Fortunately, we had turned off the transmission radio so no one could hear our very unprofessional laughter and comments at the expense of Snotlout's reputation and ego.

Struggling to catch my breath, I gesture out the window, and make my way over to the door. "Ha… I… I have to *wheeze* give the debriefing… to pinkie over there… whoo, he would kill you if he ever heard what we said here…"

_

* * *

_

Briefing room, Combat Training Centre, 1400hrs  
Lt. Astrid Hofferson

Walking into the room, I see the soldiers on the losing side already seated there, ready for their debriefing. There is an air of defeat, the stunned expressions at being soundly and hastily beaten by Ilena set in. They were scared, and rightfully so; I was going to give them yet another of my famous tongue-lashings.

The heavy silence is punctuated by the sound of my boots against the floor. I reach the front, and there is a collective sigh as they hold their breath, steeling themselves. They were past crying from my harsh yelling sessions; they were more worried at what punishments lay ahead. Turning to face the seated personnel, I give them a cold, steely gaze.

"Can anybody tell me, what went wrong out there?"

"Ma'am, she had a vastly superior dragon, which was faster and more powerful than any of our own." Snotlout speaks up first, still sore from the thrashing.

"Null point, Sergeant! You've faced up against worse odds. You've survived enough training skirmishes against the Captain's Night Fury and I, you should be flexible enough to handle an opponent of that calibre. In addition, I gave you four flights to command; that's sixteen, I repeat, SIXTEEN dragons. You outnumbered her sixteen to one, and you still lost. You failed to take advantage of your strength in numbers, and instead chose to stick stubbornly to a simple, flawed tactic."

"That was not up to standard, Sergeant; I expected better! You should have at least lasted more than ten minutes, given your record up to now. I can forgive your men, due to their lack of experience, as well as not having trained enough with their dragons. You, however, were amongst the first of us to ever get on a dragon!"

Sputtering, he tries to get a word in, "But… Ma'am! She… it…"

"And now, Sergeant, because of your narrow-minded inflexibility as a command specialist, you and everyone that was under your command today will have your Saturday burnt in an intense 12-hour dragonback combat refresher, conducted personally by me."

Agonised moans fill the room, but I coldly shut them up, "Any objections?"

Silence. That's more like it. "You're dismissed."

The soldiers shuffle out of the room, disgruntled, but knowing that they can't do anything to object further; doing so would only mean extra duties or a harsh suspension of privileges from me.

"Ha ha, no offense, _serzhant_, but you guys are pretty green, _da? _It'll take more than that to even scratch me," Standing outside the room, Ilena is leaning against the entrance. She probably heard everything; a proud smirk is plastered across her face, arrogance shining in her eyes as she rubs in the defeat. Snotlout just storms past her, brushing aside her comments with a frustrated wave of his hand.

At that moment, something just snaps in me.

"Ivanova! You're not perfect either, I'll have you realise. You may think you're the best here, but in truth, you still have far to go." My sharp, cutting words burn in, stunning her. A shocked expression replaces the arrogant one on her face. But I'm not stopping there; stepping towards her, my boots make that tapping sound against the hard floor that has struck fear in so many recruits.

"Do you know why you're here, soldier? You were hand-picked by the ATF to fight for us; I don't care where you came from, or what connections you may have had before. The moment you step in here, Ivanova, you're one of us. You walk like us, you talk like us, and you think like us. At this moment, I still don't see you fighting like a true soldier. Until I do so, I don't see why you deserve those stripes you're playing for."

The words cut deep; the look on her face is priceless, a mix of shock, confusion and anger. I drive home my message, "No more games, Ivanova. Your final test is with us. Don't think you're out of it just because you've won today. You're still part of this unit – that means you're joining us this Saturday. Don't like it, too bad." Turning away, I wave aside her protests, making my way out.

"Oh, and Ivanova; those men and women you wiped the floor with today – they're your squadron mates, like it or not. It'll do you well to treat them with more _respect_." The sentence hangs in the air, a stern final warning on my part. It silences her, and I exit the room, leaving her alone to reflect upon her actions in dejection.

A few steps out, I hear a frustrated yell, followed by a loud crash, as a chair is kicked against the wall. I just sniff nonchalantly.


	13. Taming the Hound, Pt2

**Side Quest 11: Taming the Hound, Pt.2**

_Dragon Combat Refresher Course  
Afghan Desert, 1200hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock_

I can't believe I let her talk me into approving this activity.

I was originally against this; it was a sunny Saturday morning, and I had wanted to take a good rest this weekend, but she had insisted on it – she was rambling on about the soldiers not having enough discipline, and not taking training seriously enough.

Personally, I think she's just trying to find an excuse to get back at Ilena for that night.

Observing the soldiers as they practice their dragon combat manoeuvres in the air, I can only cringe as I hear Astrid's constant harsh orders as she pushes them to their limits, taking on them one after another in short aerial dragon-on-dragon sparring matches. Verbal and physical punishment awaited those that weren't able to match up to her standards. Sorry guys, she had threatened to set Toothless on me.

Speaking of which, the Night Fury seems to be enjoying this. Showing off his agility and firepower seems to be one of the things Toothless enjoys the most, especially when it comes to asserting his superiority over the other dragons. Lately, though, it seems he has developed some sort of rivalry with Ilena's dragon Stormfly. The two are always at it; given that the Mood-dragon species rival the Night Furies in speed, power and agility, I suppose Toothless' ego does need some assurance that he's still one of the best.

Slowly ascending towards the sparring zone, Toothless and I observe the ongoing match between Astrid and Ilena. Never failing to impress, Astrid's combat abilities truly test her opponent to his limits. Her dragon Lightning flits swiftly across the sky, dodging attacks gracefully and speedily placing her rider and herself in the ideal attacking positions. Her speed is amazing, even for a Nadder. I have to admit, Astrid and Lightning do have a close bond, teaming up to become one of the most formidable pairs I've ever seen.

They dodge yet another barrage of projectiles, weaving between the flaming arrows, and disappear swiftly from Ilena's field of view. Confused and frustrated, she brings Stormfly around, searching desperately for her target. The look on her face is one of irritation, greatly annoyed at her repeated failed attempts at surpassing the Lieutenant.

"Bang. You're dead." Without skipping a beat, Astrid had flanked her from below, slipping stealthily into her blind spot. Her finger and her thumb shaped in an 'L', forefinger pointed straight at Ilena's head, indicated her loss this round.

"I've told you before, I'll tell you again – get it into your thick skull; protect your blind spots! What you can't see can kill you!" She drills her lessons into the others, making sure that they got her point.

Moving on to the next soldier, Astrid resumes the practice session. Ilena, however, isn't so spirited. Slumped over, she seems dejected, and maybe a little beat-down.

"Harsh as always, isn't she?" Sighing, I nudge Toothless in his side, instructing him to bring us over. He grudgingly complies; he doesn't like being near Stormfly, for egoistic reasons. Despite hovering right next to her, Ilena doesn't notice me. Damn, Astrid must have really given her the thrashing of her life. I give her a slight wave to attract her attention.

Looking up, she sees me, and manages out a quiet, "_Zdravstvuĭte, kapitan_."

"So… how's it going, Ilena?" I don't know what else to say. What do you say to a depressed Russian ex-mafia leader?

"… Fine, judging by the number of defeats I've suffered today." Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, still aching from the losses.

"I don't understand, _kapitan._ Why is she the second-in-command? How can a person so… harsh and so cold be so… respected? Back in Russia, I was never held with such… dignity. It wasn't respect that I got back there… it was _strah_… fear…" She is confused, lost.

In a flash, I understand what she wants. Inside, she just wanted to be respected by others. Smiling, I try to lift her spirits.

"Ilena, can I share a secret with you?"

Puzzled, she turns to me. "…_Da, _what is it?"

"Well, it's a complicated thing, but Astrid is special in her own way. Sure, she may be harsh and cold on the outside, but once you realise why she's doing this, you'll understand. She just… clicks with others. Trust me, I've been on the receiving end of her rage, so I know what it's like," Pausing, I collect my thoughts, "But when it gets down and dirty, she's the first out there, fighting to protect us. She doesn't do what she does for the prestige, or recognition; she truly believes that there is something worth protecting in all of us, human or dragon. She's special that way, and that's what makes her a true leader, in my opinion."

Ilena has this look of incomprehension on her face, and I can only silently laugh. "Well, you'll understand it someday. For now, just concentrate on passing this course, okay?"

I look down at Toothless. He seems excited, observing the skirmishes with great interest. A smile creeps across my face. "I know what you're thinking buddy. Let's do it!"

Growling in enthusiasm, Toothless brings me into the sparring zone, wings flapping energetically. I open communications on my radio. "Odin Squadron, do you read me? This is your captain speaking."

Sporadic replies, tired and exhausted, sound through my visor. Can't blame them; Astrid's been pushing them too hard again. "Guys? I know you're tired, you've been at it since three in the morning. As your commanding officer, it's my responsibility to reward you for your hard work-"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Astrid giving me an incredulous look, mouthing out to me silently. _Jack, what are you thinking? I'm not done with them yet!_

I just smile evilly at her, and continue speaking, "The past few hours, you've been drilled and beaten again and again by Lt. Astrid here. Just so you know; it's for your own good."

"However," I pause for dramatic effect, "maybe now is a good time to see what are _HER_ weaknesses are instead, eh?"

Murmurs spread across the hovering soldiers. Catching my drift, she returns my open question with an understanding shrug, and readies Lightning. A confident smirk on her face, she locks eyes with me. Opening our private comms channel, she taunts me under her breath, "Man, you don't know who you're messing with here."

"Hey, it's my Saturday, I do whatever the hell I want with it."

"Alright then, Captain. Shall we tango?"

"Yes, let's put on a good show!" Digging my heel into Toothless' side, I take off towards the midday sun in a flash. I switch gears effortlessly, my bionic leg synchronising its actions perfectly with Toothless' movements. Tailing close behind, Astrid presses on with the chase, she and Lightning not giving up at all.

Like a complex, choreographed dance, Astrid and I weave through the sporadic clouds, outmanoeuvring and dodging each other. Toothless roars in delight at the exhilaration of the moment, as we are lost in the adrenaline rush. Cheers sound out from the rest of the soldiers, rejuvenated by the sight of the two legendary dragon warriors duking it out with each other.

_

* * *

_

Landing Bay, Installation 83-RK, 1400hrs

_Cpt. Jack Haddock_

"Good fight, Astrid." Getting off Toothless, I make my way over to Astrid, who is now handing a few slabs of dragon food over to Lightning as a reward. She notices me, and smiling, she extends her hand for a handshake, "You too, Jack."

"_Lyeitenant_, may I request… one more sparring session with you?" The question catches me off guard, as I see Ilena approach Astrid tentatively.

"No, Ivanova, I told you to go brush up before challenging me again. You and your dragon need more work together."

"_Nyet, _I wish for a hand-to-hand sparring."

At that statement, all activity around us freezes. Low whispers spread across the area, as the realisation of what was about to happen dawns upon everyone. Stunned, I try to get Ilena to reconsider. She was going to get wiped on the floor! This was definitely not what I had in mind when I spoke to her just now! "Ilena, I… um, I think now's not the best time…"

"Oh, it's alright Jack; I've got nothing to attend to for now, anyway," Astrid calmly brushes me aside, to my shock. Not her too! I'm left there blabbering like an idiot as Astrid takes off her flight jacket and throws it over to me. Turning to Lightning and Toothless, I try to get them to intervene. The stupid reptiles just look on nonchalantly. _Not our problem._

Around the scene, a ring of spectators has formed, made up of all the onlookers and members of Odin Squadron.

The murmurs grow louder as the two women face each other off in the makeshift ring. I've given up trying to do anything, and I can only watch in exasperation. Christ, here we have the two most fearsome women on this side of Earth, staring each other down; it's like Ground Zero at Nevada.

They take their opening stances – Astrid with something from boxing, and Ilena with Russian combat sambo, and all time seems to stop.

Ilena makes the first move, lunging towards Astrid. Calmly sidestepping, the blonde counters with a throw, grabbing the Russian's fists and using her momentum to slam her onto the ground. Landing hard on the floor, Ilena winces from the pain, but she gets up.

Resuming her attack, she executes a flurry of punches and kicks to Astrid's torso, but all are swiftly deflected away, before Astrid sneaks in a painful blow to her face, knocking her off her feet with the force.

"$50 on the Lieutenant."

"Does she even stand a chance?" The onlookers are taking sides now, placing their bets and making comments on the match.

"NO NO NO; WAIT, WAIT! Shit, those two are getting really violent! They're going nuts, guys! How can you let two women _do this_ to each other? !" I'm astounded at the scene, utterly shocked at what was happening. It was turning into a bloodbath here, what with the blows becoming harder. Both Astrid and Ilena were now covered in bruises, and were bleeding from the nose and mouth.

A hand on my shoulder, Snotlout calmly speaks to me, "Well, then go ahead and stop them."

"Wha-?"

"Look, does it really bother you that much? Then go and stop them. We're fine either way."

Swallowing my fear, I slowly walk towards them. My hands are still trembling. "U-um… Hey, you two? Why don't you stop fighting, huh? Then you can… uh… compliment each other's… uh… fighting spirit… and stuff…"

"PISS OFF, JACK."

"… Okay."

Returning their attention to each other, the two bruised, bloodied girls face one another again. "Give up, Ivanova."

"_Nyet_, I'm not done. I want to know your true power, _lyeitenant_. How can a person like you triumph over me?" Wiping the blood from her nose, Ilena retakes her opening stance.

Astrid narrows her eyes, "Is that it, Ivanova? I'm afraid you've got a long way to go."

Gritting her teeth in furstration, Ilena rushes in, mustering all her strength behind the next blow.

Strangely, Astrid just stands there, letting the fist go right past her defences, and straight into the side of her face. There is a sickening crack as contact is made.

But she still stands her ground. Her hand slowly moves to Ilena's fist, gradually prying it away from her now-bruised face. Shocked, Ilena is unable to react. "Why… Why…?"

"Ivanova… I have something to tell you. I didn't get to where I am today by fighting battles and winning them. Respect isn't something you earn with your fists; it is gained by a strong heart and a determined, pragmatic soul. To be a leader, you must respect those you lead first. Only then can you truly gain their trust and respect."

Shaking, Ilena falls to her knees, her voice wavering, "How… how… am I not good enough to be finally accepted?"

I move forward, wanting to comfort her, but Astrid puts her arm out, stopping me. Kneeling down, she continues speaking to the trembling girl in front of her.

"Ilena," She is taken aback by the use of her first name, "I know you have the strength to fight on. I truly respect and admire your abilities. I would love to have you working alongside us; but are you willing to do so, for these men and women that now stand around us?"

Looking up, the Russian sees in front of her not an officer, but another soldier just like her, extending a warm, welcoming hand. A smile spreads across her face. Taking the extended hand, she is lifted off the ground by a confident, grinning Lt. Astrid into a warm embrace.

"We're all willing to accept you here. Remember my words, and I'm sure you'll be a respected commander in no time, Ilena… or should I say, Second Lieutenant Vladilena Ivanova." Smiling widely, Astrid hands her the rank insignia, the one that would finally mark Ilena as one of us.

"… _Spasibo, lyeitenant._" Eyes shining with gratitude, she firmly salutes.

Sighing in relief, I walk towards the two of them, "Great! Now that that's cleared up, let's all go get cleaned up! The weekend's not over yet, guys! Move it!"

Laughter and friendly chatter fills the landing bay once more, as the members of Odin Squadron resume their business.

Placing a hand on Astrid's shoulder, I make an offer, "Hey guys, how about a drink? My treat, just to reward you guys for your hard work!"

"Alright, I should be free for now. Plus I need something to numb this bruise on my face."

"_O bozhe!_ I'm so sorry!" Blushing, Ilena sheepishly apologizes for the unintentionally hard blow.

"It's okay. I've had worse." Astrid just brushes it aside, as the headstrong, infallible soldier I know and love.

"Right! Who's up for some VODKA~?"

_THWACK_ "OW!"

"Remind me one more time and I'll stick a blowtorch up your ass, Jack."


	14. School Daze

**Side Quest 12: School Daze**

_Canteen, Installation 83-RK, 1300hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock_

A pile of pamphlets and brochures is laid out on the table in front of me. One by one, I casually browse through them, taking in the contents, carefully considering my choices.

"Man, what is this stuff? Are they even _trying_ to cook?" Setting her lunch try down, Astrid takes her seat opposite mine. Prodding at the lump of mashed… whatever it is, she gingerly scoops up a spoon of it, examining it for abnormalities.

"Why do you think I gave up eating here for lunch on Saturdays? Saturday surprise is exactly that – a surprise, and a nasty one at that," Ruffnut joins us, along with her brother, sitting just down the table. Instead of the food as provided by the canteen personnel, they've each got a pack of MRE rations, snuck out and stockpiled from our supply of army surplus. "I swear, these things taste much better than what they're offering today."

Leaning over to take a look at what is capturing my attention, Astrid notices the contents of the brochures. "Wow, I see you're taking this seriously, aren't you, Captain?"

"Well, you can say that," Looking up from the magazine, I glance around at the guys around me, before returning my attention to what I was contemplating.

Cambridge U? Massachusetts Institute of Tech? Or University of Tokyo?

Sighing deeply, I weigh the pros and cons in my mind. As an officer here, I was entitled to a scholarship for further education under my Dad's new scheme. A course of your choice, subsidized by up to 90% by the ATF, under the condition that you serve for another 10 years in the organization.

I didn't see myself leaving the company anyway, so I took it up. Plus I didn't see the harm in getting an extra degree.

"Seriously, I don't get it, Captain. It's not like you don't have a job already. That's what's the PhDs are for, right?" Tuffnut is skeptical of it; he and his sister never saw the point of continuing their education past their GCE 'A'-levels, ever since they joined us a few years ago.

"Well, _serzhant_, maybe some of us want to take time off and pursue their own interests for once, _da?_" Ilena just happened to pass by and overhear our conversation. "Ooh, Tokyo U? Interesting choice for furthering your education, eh _Kapitan_?"

"I don't know… It's a really tough choice. Each institution has their own specializations and courses, I really can't decide for sure." Replacing the brochure for Tokyo U back on the table, I flip open the thick guide to Universities across the world that I had acquired.

"Well, Jack, regarding this, you really should take your time, but note that the deadline for your choice isn't far away now." Astrid chides me on my indecision, herself picking up the Stanford brochure and browsing through it. She's given up on trying to eat lunch – the sight of it probably made her lose her appetite.

"Well, what about you, Astrid? What would you choose?" Maybe if I get some opinions from them, it might be easier for me to make a decision.

"Me? I chose Stanford. I'm studying a double degree under their new University home-study programme; law and mechanical engineering."

"… How the hell did you qualify?"

"Well, my 'A'-level grades were sufficiently good…"

"She got straight A-stars, in all nine subjects," Ruffnut interjects, cutting Astrid off and turning her a very deep shade of red. I'm sitting there, staring at a god.

As expected of Astrid.

"…Ilena?"

"I studied Medicine and Military Training at the _Moskóvskiy Gosudárstvennyy Universitét_, the Moscow State University – Medicine because it was interesting, and Military Training because I had to as part of the Spetsnaz." While the others stared, puzzled at her odd choice of courses, I suddenly feel dejected.

Sighing, I discover that while I'm in command of these two ladies, I'm still far below them in terms of academic qualifications. Returning to the University Guide, I realise the pressure is on me now, as an officer, to get something out of my life and actually learn something that I can apply to make myself a better commander.

Well, there's still a couple more weeks to go before the application deadline, and a degree in Aerospace Engineering from Harvard sounds interesting.


	15. Mission Log 01A

**Side Quest 13: Mission Log 01A**

_ATF La Fayette-class Stealth Frigate 'Gladius', Gulf of Aden, 2340hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock_

With a click, the portable communications jammer locks securely into place on the harness. Something I developed myself, it is able to completely jam all major forms of communication within a 2-kilometre radius, without compromising our own comm-lines. On the other side, I sling on my silenced Colt M4 Carbine SOPMOD, letting it hang snugly there. Heaving a deep sigh, I pat Toothless on the head, checking if he's ready for what's to come.

Judging by the excited growls he's giving me, it's great one of us isn't getting butterflies in his stomach about this.

Months of training has boiled down to this. Odin Squadron's first mission. No more pink simunitions, no more getting whacked around by an angry Lt. Hofferson, no more war games; this is the real deal now.

A relatively simple mission: rescue a small container ship carrying high-value cargo from Somali pirates within the Gulf of Aden. Negotiations had failed terribly – the pirates were hell-bent on either 30 billion USD in cash or blowing up the entire ship, and sinking the containers with it. This is where we come in. We were hired through underground contacts to seize the ships back by any means necessary via a major shareholder. After all, no one was going to care what happened to the pirates, and even if anyone did, no corporation or government is able to claim or finger responsibility – in essence, deniable black operations. Plus the fact that we were using dragons made this mission even more deniable – not a single military out there is willing to admit to such connections or abilities.

The task force comprised three sections from my unit – the insertion squad led by Ilena, aerial support commanded by Astrid, and finally my main boarding team.

Loading the last of the spare magazines into my vest, I check the calibrations on my visor once more before heading over to the on-board helicopter hangar where the rest of my team is, along with their dragons.

The atmosphere in the hangar is a mix of tension and excitement. Clearing my throat to get their attention, I begin my final mission briefing.

"Alright guys, this is it. Let's go over the plan again, shall we? At this point in time, Camicazi is taking her squad into the mission zone on their dragons; they should have ID on the targets by 2405hrs. We move out at 2400hrs sharp along with Valkyrie One's squad, now on the stealth frigate _Flamberge_. Using the data from Camicazi's recon, we blast the deck and throw the pirates into chaos. Immediately after the bombing run, we board the ship. Lethal force is authorised. The containers are made of reinforced material, so they're bulletproof, but do still take caution. There are explicit instructions not to damage the cargo. Any questions?"

A nervous hand raises in the back, "Um… What if the recon team is compromised?"

"We don't think that will happen; Camicazi is highly specialized in covert stealth operations, and has trained her team to be as well. Plus we're using dragons instead of normal sea-based craft, vastly reducing our radar and thermal signatures. And if that isn't enough, she's approaching the target vessels underwater."

Surprised murmurs run through the hangar; yeah, this was one aspect of the mission we had kept secret up till now. An ace up the sleeve, if you will. Ilena had specially requested that her team comprise of only a specific few species of dragons that could breathe underwater and those under her be trained in naval diving warfare; a strange request at first, but not difficult for our resources to achieve, so we had it done anyway. Turns out her mood-dragon Stormfly could dive as well – Ilena was planning to turn the flight under her command into an all-terrain, battle-ready commando squad with dragons, able to carry out swift, powerful strikes from the air, on the land and under the sea.

Clearing my throat to get their attention again, I continue, "But if still that isn't enough comfort for you, we will move in upon receiving the distress signal and go loud, understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

Smiling, I give the final instructions before returning to Toothless, "Alright guys, synchronise watches to 2345hrs on my mark; 3, 2, 1, mark. Check your gear, get your dragons ready; we move out as planned."

* * *

_Bab-el-Mandeb Strait, Gulf of Aden , 2350hrs  
2__nd__ Lt. Vladilena Ivanova_

Under the surface of the calm waters, there is silence, except for the soft hisses that escape from our fully-closed circuit rebreathers. Holding on to Stormfly, I allow her to guide me along towards the target. Stealthy, quiet and swift; just like the way I was trained in the Spetsnaz. Behind me, the squad follows closely, all dressed in their frogman suits; I have trained them to the best of my ability, today shall be their graduating test.

Above us, the hulking silhouette of the container ship casts a shadow into the murky depths, illuminated by the moon. Stormfly slows down to a stop, floating in the dark depths as I await for my comrades to do so as well. I give them instructions over the radio under my breath.

"Target zone reached. Ascend but do not break the surface. Latch onto the hull, and slowly scale upwards with your dragon. From this point on, maintain radio silence. Camicazi out."

Upon receiving the thumbs-up sign from them, I signal for them to commence the operation.

Minute bubbles escape from our breathing apparatuses as we continue our ascent, assisted by our dragons. Using her claws, Stormfly grasps onto the underside of the ship, as are all the other dragons. Looking her in the eye, I nod to affirm my satisfaction. A low but soft growl escapes her as I pat her snout, indicating that I was ready to continue.

Stealthily, she slithers upwards and along the hull, her limbs a blur. Forming a streamlined shape as she presses herself up against the steel, we break the surface without a noise. Behind me, my comrades are doing the same. Shielded by the shadows cast by the moon, we slowly approach the level of the deck.

Approximately 5 metres from the edge, I hold Stormfly back, commanding her to stop. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I instruct her to wait for my signal, "_Zhdat' _"

I find a convenient foothold nearby, a maintenance ladder, and climb the final few metres onto the deck. At the final rung, I pause for a moment; there is movement above, footsteps and harsh voices talking – Arabic, with a Somali accent to it. Listening carefully, I notice the voices becoming louder. Looking down, I motion for the rest of the ascending squad to hold up.

_Two tangoes above, wait for my signal._

Taking out my PP2000 personal defence weapon(1), I ensure that the green dot sight is working fine, and flick the safety off. The footsteps stop for a moment; they continue their conversation for a couple more seconds before more movement is heard. Only one set of footsteps; they're splitting up for the moment. I look up, body curled up, waiting for the right moment to strike.

A head sticks out over the side of the deck. Seizing the opportunity, I launch myself upwards, grabbing the figure by the collar. His eyes register shock, but in less than a second, he's overboard, with a bullet through his brain to shut him up permanently. I let the body fall towards the water; using the momentum from before, I swing myself over.

His friend might have heard the splash, or my feet landing on the deck, but there isn't enough time to react anyway as I let loose a precise, short burst of fire into the small of his back. The silencer muffles the shots into the night. Wasting no time, I drag the lifeless body and hide it in the shadows – we can't risk them discovering any trace of our presence. Leaning back over the deck, I give the thumbs-up to my comrades.

_All clear, move up._

Taking a short break, I remove my rebreather, mask and goggles. Letting my wet hair fall back to its original shoulder length, I adjust the radio headset. Unslinging the silenced Avtomat Dual-Medium amphibious bullpup assault rifle (2), I load a 40mm Dragon's Breath grenade (3) into the integrated launcher, pull the charging handle and switch off the safety. Strapping on my pair of night vision goggles, the darkness is illuminated in a shade of bright green.

By now, the rest of the squad has done the same, all of them awaiting my command, silenced weapons at the ready.

"Break radio silence. Viper, Cougar and Tiger; the three of you search for hostages, save them if you can and get them to a safe area, but no heroics. Scorpion, Cobra and Panther; you're with me – We'll ID the targets." I still maintain my voice under a whisper, keeping stealth.

"Roger." The squad splits up, and we move out swiftly.

_

* * *

_

_Somali airspace, Gulf of Aden, 2400hrs_  
_Lt. Astrid Hofferson_

Soaring just beneath the cloudline in the starlit sky with the wind whipping through my ponytail, it's strangely reminiscent of my first flights on a dragon; but this time round, it's no romantic joyride. Odin Squadron's first mission is underway, with Ilena's squad already inside the target zone. Jack is awaiting the all-clear to board the container ship with his men, while I am to provide air cover from above.

The moon casts a reflection in the water, broken by the waves, adding to the tranquillity of the scene.

Slung across my back is a prototype M82A2 bullpup .50-calibre sniper and anti-materiel rifle (4) equipped with a thermal infra-red scope and an extended magazine of 10 rounds. Extra magazines and bullets were in pouches slung on Lightning's harness. The blue dragon is thoroughly enjoying this short flight.

In formation behind me are the rest of my team; the best marksmen and women in the unit, all holding on to various sniper rifles. They've proven themselves at the range, now they're going to have to prove themselves again on the battlefield. I myself am a mix of nervous excitement – while I was elated at finally getting a real mission to operate in, questions filled my mind that dampened it with uncertainty. What if we failed this? Will we get casualties? Will I lose any friends – or worse still, will I lose Jack?

_Get it together, Astrid! _Shaking these thoughts out of my mind, I focus myself on the mission at hand. I take a deep breath and steel myself. There's no turning back now, I can only push forward and do my best.

"Lieutenant, object spotted at 12 o'clock, approximately 1 kilometre away," the voice crackles through the radio, breaking the silence of the night. Looking up ahead, I can just make out the container ship in the distance through my ballistic goggles, a dark shape floating in the water, dotted with lights shining from potholes and windows.

"Roger that; squad, stay in formation and get ready," I give my orders into the headset clearly, "Check your ammo and prepare your night vision devices, we're going to be needed rather soon, if all goes according to plan."

Resting the butt of my rifle on my shoulder, my gloved hand adjusts to the pistol grip of my rifle as I get used to its weight.

Soon, we reach the airspace directly above the ship. "Initiate flight Formation Gamma and circle the ship. Check your altitude; stay between 400 to 500 metres. Hold your weapons ready, but don't cock them yet. I repeat, no shots until the order is given."

Switching on the infrared scope, I command Lightning to hover in the air while I examine the target zone, my other hand releasing the harness and grabbing hold of the integral foregrip of my rifle. In white-hot mode, I could easily make out human shapes on the deck; 1, 2, 3… easily at least 15 of them on board.

"Valkyrie One to Camicazi; do you read me, over?"

"_Da, Lyeitenant. Camicazi reads you loud and clear, over."_ The response comes quickly, and I heave a sigh of relief.

"Eyes are in the sky; I repeat, eyes are in the sky. What's your status, over?"

"_We've ID'd targets in the main parts of the ship; In addition, we've got two hostages with us, no injuries. Can't say the same for their captors, though. We're on the deck now; can you see us, over?"_

Sweeping across the deck, I try to make them out from the rest of the white figures. No dice.

"_Hold on… look for the flashing IR strobes, Valkyrie One, over."_

"Hmm… Roger, I've acquired you, Camicazi, over."

"_Good. Here's the lowdown; there's a total of about 45 pirates, all are armed, mostly concentrated on the deck, in the main control and in the engine rooms. Additional hostages in the living quarters, approximately 30 crew members, over."_

"Roger that, hold your position, maintain stealth until Valkyrie Leader is in the area, over and out."

Heaving another sigh, I rest my eyes for a while as I await contact from Jack.

_

* * *

_

Bab-el-Mandeb Strait, Gulf of Aden , 2405hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock

The seaspray forms a thin mist on my visor, the salty taste of the air hanging on my lips. The only sounds are those of the waves softly crashing upon each other, and the occasional low growls from a dragon, as we glide silently over the black waters.

"Valkyrie Leader, intel has arrived, over," Snotlout's voice crackles through my headset, breaking the silence. Right on time.

"Roger, patching through," Acknowledging, I commence the data uplink. Figures and diagrams flash onto my visor, feeding live from the recon squad's data spikes. Amazed yet again at Ilena's deadly efficiency, I smile inwardly as the full picture forms in my head, boarding plans and calculations flashing through my mind.

A low growl from Toothless brings my attention back to real life. "What is it, buddy?"

Looking up, I make out the large shape on the waters a distance away. "Valkyrie Leader to Beta Squad, accelerate to attack speed. Precision bombing; aim for the deck. Hit 'em fast, hit 'em hard."

Digging my heels into the harness, Toothless receives my command and speeds forward, wings shifting into a streamlined position. Letting adrenaline take over, I switch gears instinctively, my bionic foot moving quickly to alter Toothless' artificial tail fin. The wind by my ears builds up into a roar, mixed with that high-pitched scream so characteristic of the Night Fury's bombing run.

"Valkyrie Leader to Valkyrie One and Camicazi; Boarding team is in the zone, I repeat, boarding team is in the zone! Estimated time of impact, 45 seconds. On my mark, initiate the operation; watch for the fireball."

Anticipating the strike, Toothless starts to build a small ball of blue-hot plasma in his snout. The ship grows larger and larger as we approach… 800 metres… 600 metres… 400… 200… 100…

"Now!"

* * *

**A/N - Sorry for the long wait, guys. Med school hasn't been kind to me, and there isn't much time to do anything else. Thankfully it's term break now, so hopefully I can get a few more chapters up before and after Christmas. Again, sorry for making those who followed this story wait; Hope you like what's coming up :)**

**Warmest Regards,  
****DisneyAnime91**

**More gun notes:**

**(1) PP-2000 Personal Defence Weapon - The PP-2000 is the latest development of the famous Instrument Design Bureau from Tula, Russia. It has been first displayed in public in 2004, although the patent for its layout has been filed in 2001 and issued in 2003. Today it is already in use with some law enforcement units of the Russian Federation. The main niche for the PP-2000 is a personal defence weapon for non-infantry military personnel, as well as a close combat weapon for special forces and special law enforcement teams. As such, it is a compact weapon with as few parts as possible for enhanced reliability, simplified maintenance and low cost. Easily wielded with one hand, as Ilena is doing here, and can be modified with parts such as a silencer and optics.**

**(2) Avtomat Dual-Medium, Special (ADS) Amphibious Assault Rifle - The ****ADS is an Assault rifle of Russian origin specially made for Combat Divers. It is of a bullpup layout and is chambered in the 5.45x39mm M74 round. It can also use special ammunition developed for use underwater, and switching between the two is as simple as changing the magazine and flicking a switch. The integral 40mm grenade launcher is fitted with a removable barrel which can be removed when it is not needed by the mission profile. Muzzle of the barrel is threaded to accept muzzle brake / compensator, tactical silencer or blank-firing adapter. Rifle is fitted with adjustable iron sights, and an integral carrying handle is provided with Picatinny type rail on the top to accept various day and night optical sights. The ADS can fire any standard issue 5.45x39 ammunition when above the water, with accuracy and effectiveness similar, if not better than of AK-74 / AK-74M general issue assault rifle. When submerged and loaded with 5.45 PSP ammunition, ADS outperforms other underwater assault rifles in terms of accuracy and ease of handling. The ADS is said to be under extensive field trials by undisclosed units of Russian Naval special forces. If adopted, it will replace APS underwater weapons and, possibly, some AK-74M general issue assault rifles in service with Russian Navy special operation units and other Russian special forces, which might be engaged in underwater operations (security, counter-terrorism in the sea, etc).**

**(3) Dragon's Breath -** **A Dragon's Breath usually refers to a zirconium-based pyrotechnic shotgun round. When the round is fired, sparks shoot out to about 5m (20 feet). ****While it has few tactical uses, the visual effect it produces is impressive, similar to that of a short-ranged flamethrower. The pyrotechnic shell is expensive compared to other shells, costing around 5 US dollars per shell. Taking quite a bit of artistic liberty here, and converted it from a shotgun round into a 40mm grenade used to clear rooms quickly (like a flamethrower). Maybe something that Jack developed or modified from the original while tinkering around in the engineer's labs?**

**(4) M82A2 Anti-Material Sniper Rifle - ****The M82 is a short recoil semi-automatic firearm. When the gun is fired, the barrel initially recoils for a short distance (about 1 in/25 mm) being securely locked by the rotating bolt. After the short travel, a post on the bolt engaged in the curved cam track in the receiver turns the bolt to unlock it from the barrel. As soon as the bolt unlocks, the accelerator arm strikes it back, transferring part of the recoil energy of the barrel to the bolt to achieve reliable cycling. Then the barrel is stopped and the bolt continues back, to extract and eject a spent case. On its return stroke, the bolt strips the fresh cartridge from the box magazine and feeds it into the chamber and finally locks itself to the barrel. The striker also is cocked on the return stroke of the bolt. The gun is fed from a large detachable box magazine holding up to 10 rounds, although a rare 12 round magazine was developed for use during Operation Desert Storm in 1991. The M82A2 differed from M82A1 mostly in its configuration—that the pistol grip along with trigger had been placed ahead of the magazine, and the buttpad has been placed below the receiver, just after the magazine. An additional forward grip was added below the receiver, and the scope mount has been moved forward too. This was to adapt the usually very heavy weapon to be fired from the shoulder by a single marksman, intended for use against airborne targets such as helicopters.**


	16. Mission Log 01B

**Side Quest 14: Mission Log 01B**

_Unnamed Merchant Vessel, Bab-el-Mandeb Strait, 2405hrs  
2__nd__ Lt. Vladilena Ivanova_

"_Valkyrie Leader to Valkyrie One and Camicazi; Boarding team is in the zone, I repeat, boarding team is in the zone! Estimated time of impact, 45 seconds. On my mark, initiate the operation; watch for the fireball."_

I affix the last of the C4 plastic explosive, moulding it into the frame of the steel door and concentrating it around the hinges. Sticking in a wireless detonator, I turn to the rest of my comrades, indicating that I was done. Behind me, the team is at the ready, bracing for impact behind cover. Once the _Kapitan_ hits the deck, we blast our way into the living quarters and secure the hostages. Earlier on during our recon, I had my men sabotage the power generators in the engine rooms as well; Once the assault begins, we blow that up too, cutting power and throwing them into a chaotic darkness.

"C4 primed and ready. Check your guns and ammo, let's do this quickly and carefully; I want the hostages alive and kicking, _da_?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The wait seems like forever, but soon enough, there is a loud rumble as the ship is hit by an explosion.

"_Valkyrie Leader, hit is confirmed! Weapons free, I repeat, weapons free!" _The signal is given, and I commence my plan.

"Cobra, do it!" On my mark, he activates the firing device, and further explosions rock the ship in deafening rumbles. In front of us, the hinges of the steel door are blown apart into smithereens, the frame shattered by the impact. The hallway goes dark, just as intended. Not waiting for the dust to settle, I turn on my night vision goggles, kick down the door and give the order to advance, "Go! Go! Go! _Davai,_ _na shturm!_"

A mass of yells in the dark space greets me, as I pull the trigger, firing automatic bursts at the confused figures illuminated in green. They go down one by one, the welcoming party taken out in less than 10 seconds. I roll into cover as four more tangoes pour into the hallway, firing blindly towards us with their AK-47 assault rifles.

Amateurs.

_

* * *

_

Somali airspace, Bab-el-Mandeb Strait, Gulf of Aden , 2405hrs  
Lt. Astrid Hofferson

"_Weapons free, I repeat, weapons free!"_

"You heard him, team. Pick your targets, open fire! No fancy shots, aim for centre mass! I want efficient bullet economy!" I repeat the signal to the rest of my squad, commanding them to open fire. My orders are met with a chorus of heavy-calibre semiautomatic gunfire. Once I ensure that Lightning is hovering nicely, I chamber the first round and pick out my first victim from the mass of white figures. The residual heat from Toothless' plasma bolt formed a greyish-white mass on my thermal scope, and white figures all around it were panicking, running across the deck into cover. Breathing out deeply, I steady my aim, my leather gloves tightening around the trigger and foregrip respectively.

Hold my breath… and pull the trigger.

Took his arm off with that one. Even through the noise-cancelling headset, the shot is deafening. The recoil that accompanies it is substantial, despite most of it being absorbed by the large muzzle brake and floating barrel. It is enough to push Lightning back a little, but she easily compensates for it, adjusting her wings and tail.

I quickly steady myself and take aim through the scope again. Hold on… I'm noticing something odd. Further white masses to the rear hull of the ship? Wasn't Jack planning to assault only the deck?

"Valkyrie One to Valkyrie Leader; I'm observing high concentration of thermal signatures to the rear of the ship, confirm; Are those yours?"

"_Uh… negative, Valkyrie One. Our shots are directed towards the front hull and deck, over."_

Damn.

"Valkyrie One to Camicazi; explosions detected in your area, what's happening down there? !"

The response comes quickly, but is drowned in a mass of noise; gunfire and yells in the background. _"Camicazi to Valkyrie One; We're heading to rescue the hostages, and we've encountered heavy resistance; but nothing we can't handle until the boarding team lands."_

"What about those explosions?"

"_Oh, those? We decided to sabotage the power supply to throw them into further disarray. It's pretty dark in here, so Valkyrie Leader might want to prepare some NV equipment."_

Sighing in relief and mild exasperation at her rather extreme measures, I reply while calmly doing a lead on a running target. "Roger that, keep pressing on; help is on the way."

Nice shot squarely on centre mass. Releasing my breath, I move on to the next target.

_

* * *

_

Bab-el-Mandeb Strait, Gulf of Aden , 2410hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock

"Valkyrie Leader to Beta Squad; We're going around for one more pass, then we initiate boarding, understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

Bringing Toothless around, I lead the final bombing run. The deck is already burning, flames from our dragons during earlier passes throwing the pirates on deck into chaos and confusion. Ilena reported that she had cut power to the rest of the ship, plunging it into darkness and leaving our fires as the only remaining light and heat source. As expected from someone of her calibre.

Pressing forward, Toothless soars in the direction of the front hull, flying perpendicular to the ship's current bearing. As we pass over the deck, he fires one more shot, one which impacts right in the path of a group of pirates running for cover. Behind me, the rest of the dragons spew flames intended to suppress and intimidate escaping targets, preventing them from trying to get away.

"Initiate landing pass. Go parallel to the ship and land on the deck. Valkyrie One, can you cover our approach?"

"_Roger that." _With the snipers acknowledging their orders, I lead the squad on the landing course. Not that difficult actually, with our dragons being way more stable and manoeuvrable than helicopters or jets.

Flapping his wings to soften the landing, Toothless hits the deck on all four feet. Head sweeping around, he scans for any more threats within the vicinity. I disengage myself from the harness and equip my rifle. Pulling the charging handle on my M4 Carbine, I ensure the area is clear with two other members of the boarding team who landed just after me.

"Landing zone clear; is the whole team on deck yet?"

Snotlout does a quick headcount, and reports back to me, "All present and on deck. Ready to move when you are."

Nodding, I instruct him to take three soldiers and sweep the deck, taking out any remaining pirates as they go, and then to patrol the landing zone. Taking the rest of them with me, I command Toothless to stay put as I proceed towards the bridge. Switching on my night vision device, I head into the darkness with my team, slowly proceeding through the hallways.

"Valkyrie Leader to Camicazi; I'm inside the ship now, report your status, over."

"_Da, Camicazi reporting; We've broken through resistance and are heading to the living quarters to secure the hostages, over."_

"Roger that; proceed with your objective, then send a detachment to rendezvous with me outside the bridge control room. I might need your help in securing that area, over."

"_Acknowledged. Camicazi over and out."_

_

* * *

_

Somali airspace, Bab-el-Mandeb Strait, Gulf of Aden , 2415hrs  
Lt. Astrid Hofferson

With the landing zone secure, and Jack deep inside the ship, I can finally take a break. The deck is now clear of threats, and all the small patrol had to do was to mop up the remaining one or two disarmed pirates.

"Sniper team, resume surveillance duties. No need to provide any more covering fire; the boarding team's clear."

Reaching for the canteen resting in my waist pouch, I take a sip of water. I remove my headset and run my hand through my hair, appreciating the cool wind blowing past my ears; it is a relaxing relief from the large, bulky earpieces.

So far, so good.

A nervous voice breaks the calm. "Um, Lieutenant? You might want to check your PDA… There's a message from the _Flamberge_."

Furrowing my brow, I take the handheld computer from my back pocket.

Oh no.

Quickly, I place my headphones back on and get onto the radio, "Valkyrie One to Flamberge, do you read me? What's the issue?"

"_Flamberge mission control reads you loud and clear, Valkyrie One. We've detected five fast-moving crafts in your vicinity, heading towards the merchant vessel. We suspect the pirates called for backup before you began jamming their communications."_

"Damn… What's the ETA, Flamberge?"

"_Judging by their current speed and trajectory… you have 10 minutes at best."_

"… Got it. Will relay the intel to Valkyrie Leader. Valkyrie One, over and out."

Swearing under my breath, I scramble to re-establish contact with Jack and Ilena. Whatever they're doing, they had better get it done fast. Extraction is going to be hell if we get outnumbered. Meanwhile, I command my men to re-arm and re-deploy.

"Valkyrie One to Valkyrie Leader and Camicazi; do you read me? We've got five enemy fast-crafts approaching the ship, repeat, five enemy tangoes approaching you, ETA 10 minutes. Do you copy?"

The replies come almost simlultaneously.

"_Shit."  
"B`lyad'!"_

Fortunately, Jack regains his composure quickly, and formulates a plan B on the spot. _"Alright, since it's down to this… Camicazi, send three men to secure the hostages now, the rest of your team to rendezvous with me outside the control room in 5 minutes – once we take that, we will have the ship locked down. Deck patrol, set up a defensive perimeter on the deck with the dragons on watch. Valkyrie One, monitor the skies and ready your weapons. ID and open fire once the crafts are in sight."_

"Roger that." Acknowledging, I get my troops ready again.

Shouldering my weapon once more, I load a fresh magazine into the gun, chambering the first bullet. High-explosive incendiary armour-piercing rounds; desperate times call for desperate measures.

Get ready for round two.

_

* * *

_

Unnamed Merchant Vessel, Bab-el-Mandeb Strait, 2420hrs  
Cpt. Jack Haddock

"No time to prepare C4, satchel charges on those doors now! I want them primed and ready to blow in two minutes! The rest of you stack up and get ready to breach on my mark," Against the metal grille of that is the catwalk lining the ship's bridge, our boots make hollow tapping noises as we rush towards the objective.

Five minutes. That is all we have to finish this. Assuming Ilena's intel is accurate, there's at least another twenty pirates in the control room. Eight of us, plus another four on the way… in any cast, we're still outnumbered. Three doors to the bridge, four to each door… the calculations fly past in my head, trying to sort out the numbers in time.

"_Kapitan_!" The familiar voice brings me back to reality, adding a certain amount of relief to my sea of worry.

"Great timing. Take the portside entrance, will you? My team's covering the starboard and rear doors."

"Roger that, Valkyrie Leader," She nods to acknowledge, and swiftly instructs her team to press up against the wall next to the entrance. The whole time, we remain low, staying out of sight from whoever is within the room.

"Charges set!" The signal is given, and I lean up against the wall with the rest of my men.

Taking a deep breath, I calm my senses for a moment, before my grip tightens on my weapon, steeling my determination. "Blow it!"

Once more, explosions shake the floor we stand on. Bracing against the impact, I feel the heat and dust blow past my face. Tossing a flashbang grenade through the residual smoke, I wait for it to go off before rushing into the room myself.

Bad move.

They were ready and waiting for us. A loud yell marks the beginning of their counterattack. A combination of sheer luck and lightning reflexes, I throw myself behind a steel table just as a storm of hot lead whizzes past my head, pinging off the frame of the door I just ran through. The rattle of gunfire is amplified into a loud roar within the control room, the sounds echoing off the walls.

I regain my composure and return fire around the corner, using the table for protection. Around me, the rest of my troops are doing the same, peering from behind cover and letting loose short, precise bursts of fire.

"_Valkyrie One to Valkyrie Leader; enemy fast crafts are within the mission zone! Have you secured the control room yet? !"_

I don't need this now! Swearing, I yell into the radio through the deafening roars of gunfire, "Negative! Do whatever it takes to hold them back! Valkyrie Leader to Deck Patrol; are the defences up yet? !"

"_Yes sir! We have heavy machine guns loaded and ready on deck; we found a stash of RPGs we can use, and the dragons are ready to take off if needed!"_

"Copy that, Deck Patrol, stay frosty!" Leaning over, I fire off one more burst, before my rifle clicks. Discarding the empty magazine, I load in a full clip and cock the gun once more, continuing the suppression.

"Damn pirates aren't going down easy!"

"_Camicazi to all; hit the deck! I repeat, get down!" _Ilena's determined voice crackles through the noise, sending questions running through my head. What the hell is she thinking?

It doesn't take long for me to find out what she's got up her sleeve, as a plume of bright sparks and flame spews across the room. The heat wave blows past me, the flames licking the sides of the table I hide behind. Agonized screams replace the sounds of guns as the unfortunate souls are burnt by the white-hot flames. Putting them out of their misery, a final rain of bullets tears through them from the still-smoking muzzle of Ilena's assault rifle.

"All threats neutralized. Bridge is clear." Her calm, cold, Russian voice breaks the silence that follows. Exiting cautiously from cover, I get up and dust myself off, still shaken by the awfully sudden and shocking conclusion to the otherwise rather short firefight.

"What the hell was that?"

"You do not remember?" Ilena's puzzled expression meets my inquiry, as she ejects a spent, smoking 40mm grenade casing from her grenade launcher. "The engineers told me you made this in your free time, but it was lost in the stockpiles of prototype weapons at the back of the weapons lab. I found it by chance while preparing for this mission."

Picking up the charred piece of brass, she hands it over to me. "Dragon's Breath rounds modified for use in a grenade launcher; shoots out flames up to a range of 20 metres. Impressive effect, I must say, but a little too inefficient for my liking."

My eyes light up as the memories come back; I had designed this a few years back while tinkering with zirconium powder derived from unused explosives. The idea was to mimic the flames of a Nadder; for what purpose, I can't remember. But for its first field test… I must say it's a bit too powerful. This is something better left forgotten in the ashes of time.

Retuning my focus back to the situation at hand, I execute the next phase. "Three of you, stay here and guard the control room. Everyone else, follow me back to the deck. Hopefully taking out those enemy boats won't be too hard."

"Let's finish this and go home."


End file.
